From the Shadow Into the Light
by Gatekat
Summary: Continuity Mashup. Jazz/Prowl, Bluestreak/Idarassi Following the life of the naga-mech Idarassi from when he is found by a young Bluestreak before the war, many of the family's trials during the war and a look at the post-war events in an AU where Prowl's a scary bugger with too much power. A lot of Jazz/Prowl too.
1. Getting to Know You

**Fandom**: Transformers G1  
**Author**: gatekat, ultrarodimus, starshield on LJ  
**Pairings**: Bluestreak/Idarassi, Jazz/Prowl  
**Rating**: NC-17  
**Codes**: Pre-war, Destruction of Praxus, Death, Sticky, Spark, First Time, Bonding, Mech Preg, Sparklings  
**Summary**: Continuity Mashup. Jazz/Prowl, Bluestreak/Idarassi  
Following the life of the naga-mech Idarassi from when he is found by a young Bluestreak before the war, many of the family's trials during the war and a look at the post-war events in an AU where Prowl's a scary bugger with too much power. A lot of Jazz/Prowl too.

**Disclaimer**: The authors are only playing with their own twisted muses. Transformers belong to Hasbro. Fandom-side, check the inspirations page (gatekat-fics dot livejournaldot com/290 dot html). We draw from a ton of amazing stories and authors you should read.  
What I'm calling _Rite of the Storm Flight_ came from a fic, probably under a different name, but I don't remember where or anything else about it.  
**Notes**: Praxian frame (with 3 of 3 wing panels) (alteride dot deviantart dot com/art/Commission-Resonance-Prowl-254774764) (Prowl) and (tench dot deviantart dot com/art/Commissions-06-287783868) (Jazz)  
Lockjaw belongs to Kusuriuri (furaffinity dot net/view/8571860/) and (furaffinity dot net/view/6876228/)

nanoklik = 1/8 second;  
klik = 496 nanokliks/62 seconds;  
breem = 8 kliks/8.27 minutes;  
groon = 9 breem/1.24 hours;  
joor = 6 groon/7.44 hours;  
orn = 42 joor/13.02 days;  
decaorn = 32 orns/1.14 years;  
metacycle = 8 decaorn/9.22 years;  
vorn = 9 metacycles/72 decaorn/83 years;  
::text:: comm chatter  
~text~ hardline/bond chatter

**Getting to Know You**  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ =================== ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The trade show was in full swing, with mecha milling here and there and merchants peddling their wares and various traders making deals between themselves, some personal and some business but all with the intent to profit.

Prowl wandered through the show, sharp optics taking all of the activity before noticing a very animated exchange going on between a slender blue and black mech that he had never seen before and a merchant that his family did business with on a regular basis. The newcomer seemed to be charming Swingscale with ease, the merchant laughing at the something the small mech said, and the newcomer's rich blue visor flashing in return before the pair shook hands and a chip was exchanged.

With another friendly nod the newcomer subspaced the information chip and set off again, wandering slowly along and scanning the show with easy interest.

Just being a new face was reason enough for Prowl to shadow the non-Praxian for a while as he moved on to chat up a small group with an ease that Prowl envied. Even at his best, small talk and social niceties were hard for him. The cold, crisp cleanness of numbers and the hard, pointed drive of a final negotiation were what Prowl was good at. Very, very good.

But talking, just talking? One two-panel sensor wing twitched.

A database query provided the designation and background of the newcomer. A mechling like himself, though a few vorns younger. The current youngest creation of a trading family out of Kaon.

No matter how bad an idea it was to get involved with a Kaonite, he wanted to get closer to this socialite mechling. He wanted to just be close to someone with that much positive energy on display. He needed it right now.

When Jazz drifted away from the group, Prowl moved closer. "I haven't seen you here before."

The blue and black mech turned a brilliant smile on Prowl. "That would probably be because I've never been to this show before. First time for everything."

His helm tilted to the side. "I'm Jazz. And you are?" While he already _knew_ who Prowl was from the database, there was only so much that a computer could tell, and so much more that one could learn when the subject was standing in front of you.

"Prowl," he gave his full, formal designation as had been drilled into him by his carrier. "Are you here just to make contacts?"

"Yup." That same smile remained in place as Jazz adjusted his pace to accommodate his new conversation companion. "Been having some very good luck. My uncle will be pleased, I think."

"A good first outing then," Prowl smiled, but even at the best of times he felt his false smile was a terrible, obvious thing. "It bodes well for being let out again."

"So why are you here?" Jazz asked as they walked along. The mechling was constantly aware of everything that was going on around him while at the same time making his companion feel like most of his attention was still centered on the Praxian.

"To examine the new goods and negotiate for any we can trade now," Prowl responded, trying to hide his relief at being asked questions.

"What sort of things do you trade in?" Jazz asked, keeping to business for the moment, sensing that this line of questioning was something that the other mechling found easy.

"High-end textiles, decorative armor, limited edition statuary and off world manufactured imports primary, though we often fill requests for all manner of items," Prowl relaxed fractionally as they walked and looked at the offerings on display. "Our stock varies greatly vorn to vorn."

"Ah. How often do you trade in statuary? My uncle collects and deals in art." Jazz informed him as he stopped to look at a collection of paintings.

"We have a shifting stock of a couple dozen lines at any given time," Prowl said easily as the conversation shifted into what he really understood. "Generally whatever is new from popular and up and coming sculptors that favor the Praxian aesthetic."

"Ah. My uncle favors the Iaconian style more. A moment?" He asked, flashing another smile at Prowl as he proceeded to strike up a conversation with the dealer, quickly extracting from the mecha that he was also the artist and exchanging contact information.

After another moment Jazz selected a very small piece and got a good deal on it before tucking it away in subspace and turned his attention back to Prowl. "Shall we move on?"

"Of course," Prowl nodded, privately blown away by the ease at with Jazz socialized. It reminded him entirely too much of his carrier, and his younger brother. They all found it so easy, so natural. Prowl took after his sire, but with far more advanced logic and tactical processors, he found the social aspects of the business far more difficult.

"I'm partial to art myself, though my interests run more towards music." Jazz informed him as they continued on their way.

"What kind of music?" Prowl asked, just to continue the conversation. He was all too aware of his tin audio when it came to the subject, though he was told he had an excellent voice once he'd learned a part on key.

"Upbeat dance type." Jazz smiled. "I _know_ the classics, but that doesn't necessarily mean I _like_ them as well. Not a lot to sing to, for starters."

"That would depend on the region, time and genre of classical," Prowl said, then caught himself. "Some of them do focus heavily on vocals."

The other mech's visor lit up. "You have a music background? What sorts do you favor?"

"It's expected of my status but I have very little talent," Prowl shied away from the subject, knowing he'd make a fool of himself if the conversation went very far. "I do enjoy listening to adagio, cantabile and cantata compositions. Settlebeat, Consonance and most of what is written for Primus."

"Every performer needs an audience." His companion said agreeably, recognizing the attempt to move topics and accommodating the transition. "So what sort of recreation hobbies do you enjoy?"

Prowl actually froze for a nanoklik as his wings gave a twitch. He'd very abruptly been reminded why he hated socializing so much. He had next to nothing in common with his peers, or even his creator's peers, and talking about himself was exquisitely uncomfortable on a level he didn't fully grasp but knew wasn't normal.

"My brother is the social one," he said quietly. "I enjoy working with numbers; accounting, inventory, predicting what will sell."

But the other merely nodded. "So how do you go about following the markets and figuring out what will sell? Numbers again?"

"Everything can be distilled into numbers; percentages, ratios and odds," Prowl nodded, relaxing once more and even a little excited by a subject he genuinely did enjoy delving into. "From there it is a simple matter to determine the patterns and predict accurately based on the data. I have doubled my family wealth already based on taking my sire's principles to the next level and simplifying them. He had the right idea, but never took it far enough."

Jazz laughed, though there was not a hint of mocking in the sound. Instead it was the sound of someone who was happy that his companion was happy. "It sounds like it is something that you do like, and something that you have figured out. But that's still _work_ to me. Do you do anything to relax?"

"Hot oil soak," Prowl responded after a pause to kick himself out of numbers mode. He knew he should be more wary. Knew he was being played. No mecha acted like this for real. It just felt too good not to be laughed at, to have attention paid to him and not his work not to want more.

"Ohhhh...good idea." The other mech agreed. It wasn't something that Jazz got to indulge in often, but he certainly appreciated it when he got to enjoy it. "Sounds like you have relaxing figured out as well."

"Enough to make sure there is one in my room here," he let the offer hang unspoken, unwilling to make it real lest it, and he, be rejected outright.

Jazz went silent for a moment as he checked the time then looked at his companion. "I've never been here before, but I'm starting to get hungry. Any idea where is a good place to refuel around here?"

"Several," Prowl nodded, falling back into habits that made him comfortable; dealing with facts. "What are you interested in?"

"Some place where we can sit down and chat over a nice meal." Jazz said. "Your choice of what though. There isn't much I don't like, and I am always up for trying new things."

A quick database query produced what cities Jazz had traveled to and what was generally available in Kaon if you cared to spend the credits. It also turned up a good baseline of what likely qualified as 'nice' for a mid-ranked Kaonite merchant. It was close enough to his own preferences that Prowl felt reasonably confident in selecting one of his favored places nearby.

He motioned Jazz to follow with a nervous smile. "Have you ever tried Rust Sea cuisine?"

"Nope, but I'm game. Lead the way." Jazz said with a small bow and wave of his hand.

Prowl gave a small, genuine smile of amusement before his features slid to their default stern neutrality. "It tends to be acidic and spicy, with lots of crunch."

"That sounds delightful, especially in your company." The slender mech responded, offering Prowl his arm playfully. "So shall we?"

Prowl was a little taken aback and confused by the move, but drilled-in manners had him take it as he showed Jazz outside the convention tower and onto the road. "The Singing Crystal is three and a half blocks north," he motioned to the direction they needed to go before stepping into the transformation lane and settling on his tires. He waited for Jazz to transform, then pulled into the heavy mid-day traffic of central Iacon.

The slender mech transformed, folding into a sleek sport alt that screamed of speed and slipped into the traffic behind his guide and lunch partner. It gave him a lovely view of the larger, heavier alt's aft end, one designed for power as much as speed, and with an aesthetic very different from anything seen in Kaon. It also gave him a good look at how controlled Prowl was in this heavy traffic. It made Jazz all the more sure that the cool, detected nature he had assessed while talking was accurate.

It made him just as sure that Prowl was not a happy mech. Not in ways that really counted. He recognized the emotional hurt being covered up. It was a familiar one. It was something that was enough to catch Jazz's interest, especially as he prodded a little deeper into the public records that were available on his lunch date. It also slid several more recent observations into a clearer light.

When Prowl pulled into the transformation lane and stood up, Jazz followed. All of that was smoothly covered up as he stepped up beside Prowl as they entered the restaurant and were shown to a small table. "Tell me more about your family? I know you mentioned your brother."

Prowl didn't even bother looking at the menu he was handed, and he seemed relatively at ease here. "We've been merchants for seven generations, including mine. We've always divided up the aspects of the business based on skills. I'm best at handling inventory and hard negotiations. My brother is the social one. He's very good at the soft sale and making friends, but he doesn't have quite the processor for the tough end of things that sire and I do."

"A good business partner for you then." Jazz commented as he looked over the menu, debating between several entrees that appealed to his tastes from their descriptions alone.

"It's always arranged that way," Prowl nodded. "Either a sibling or mate will be the social one, occasionally both, but that that's been rare. The Zarita Mattri is particularly good here, as long as you enjoy spice."

Jazz glanced at the item on the menu, humming softly as he considered before nodding agreement, willing to give it a try. "That sounds good. This is my first trade show. Uncle finally decided that he would give me a chance. He has been pleased so far."

"That's always good," Prowl happily picked up the subject as he pinged their order in. "Did he give you anything to focus on?"

"Artwork that we might be able to acquire and trade, part of the reason I went ahead and purchased that painting earlier. And any trade contacts that I think might be of benefit to him. Where I am most useful in the grand scheme of things is still being discussed." Jazz replied.

"So he's testing out your skills," Prow nodded his understanding. "Are you enjoying the show so far?"

"Very much so." A ripple of excitement passed through Jazz's field at the mention of the show, a true indication of just how intriguing and fun Jazz found the whole thing. "If I do well here he might let me start coming along as a regular thing."

"Then we may see each other again," Prowl managed a small smile, pausing as their meals arrived. His was a simple cube, effervescent and the rich color of strong midgrade with heavy additives. Jazz's was a plate of various solids and a cube of light, effervescent midgrade. "I currently attend all but three trade shows most vorns; Kaon, Tarn and Hive City. My sire does not consider the territories safe enough for me to travel alone, so his older brother handles them."

"Those are not heavily attended by anyone but residents, from what I understand." Jazz said as he tasted his meal and hummed in pleasure. "You were right. This is excellent. I will have to remember this."

"Good," Prowl really did smile, though it was only a small twitch of his lips and sensor wings.

Jazz attention turned to Prowl's meal. "What did you order?"

"Attiquim," Prowl named it. "A spiced low-potency high grade. It's too acidic for most, but I enjoy it."

Jazz took the liberty of leaning over just far enough to catch a whiff of what the other mech was consuming and forced himself not to let his features wrinkle in distaste at a smell close to battery acid mixed with incendiary level spice. "I think that I will be one of those who will leave you to enjoy that without testing it myself."

He took several more bites of his meal, taking care to mix the solids with the sauce appropriately before speaking again. "So are you the one in line to inherit the business, or are there others?"

"I am in line to inherit," Prowl confirmed. "My brother will own a silent share. He inherits rights to a portion of the income, but he will not be a decision-maker."

"A good compromise." Jazz said quietly. "I take it he is pleased with the arrangement?"

"He has not expressed otherwise," Prowl confirmed. "I have my doubts he's thought about it yet. He only upgraded to mechling status six and a half vorns ago. He is not expected to be working yet. Our carrier is still tutoring him in the skills for being the social manager of the family."

"If he takes to that side of the business with as much as passion as you seem to have taken to yours I doubt there will be an issue." Jazz said.

"He does seem to enjoy it," Prowl agreed. "The formal aspects are a bit difficult for him still, but he is younger than you. I expect you would like him. You seem to have a similar social nature."

The same bright smile appeared at the compliment as Jazz set aside his empty platter and settled over his drink to learn a little more of his companion. "So out of all of the places you have visited, which is your favorite?"

"Outside of Praxus, I would have to say Vos," Prowl decided after he thought for a time. "It is the closest to Praxus by code and culture. At least I found their reputation for violence to be quite exaggerated."

"What was the most interesting thing you saw there?" Jazz asked, his entire field revealing that he really was interested in what Prowl had seen and done. There was an underlying hunger to learn, and curiosity centered on a mecha that had seen so much more than Jazz was and was willing to share.

The Praxian settled back in his chair and hummed as he reviewed all the amazing things in the city his ancestors came from in his processors, trying to pick out just one or two.

"I believe it would have been the Rite of the Storm Flight," he finally decided. "Every Seeker who can make it to Vos is aloft at once during the fiercest wind and electrical storm of the vorn. The sky was black from layer after layer of wings, the entire city in shadow, lit only by the reflection of its own lights down on it from all the frames above. I've only witnessed it twice, but to think they do so every vorn is amazing. Risking, some extinguishing, just to prove they are still stronger than the sky itself."

His companion's optics flashed as he tried to envision that, then Jazz simply shook his helm as he gave up. "Perhaps some day I can witness it for myself."

"If you do well and visit the trade show in Vos, you will have the opportunity," Prowl suggested. "They time several large events for the metacycle of the storms to make it easier for as many to come as possible. It also allows them to show off to the largest possible audience."

A small smile appeared at that. "I have heard that they are rather inclined to show off."

"They do," Prowl chuckled slightly. "Seekers are as flashy, arrogant, emotional and high-strung as their reputation would indicate, and twice as sensual in storm season after the Rite."

"Then I am sure that you get quite the show." Jazz replied, field taking on a slightly neutral tint before he got it under control again.

"It is," Prowl agreed as he cocked his helm and canted his wings curiously. "You find open sensuality disturbing?"

"Not as a general rule." Jazz responded, deflecting the inquiry slightly and hoping that his companion would not push too much deeper. Not now, while he was still enjoying being in the Praxian's company.

It was enough of an answer that Prowl simply nodded acceptance of it. "You may wish to stay in a hotel that caters to Praxians, Crystal Cityites, or business mecha. If you can afford it, any that are four stars or better will also generally be very discreet. Avoid any that cater to airframes no matter the rating."

"Thank you." Jazz purred softly as he relaxed once more, content after a good meal with a pleasant meal companion. A companion that he was finding more interesting the longer he spent in the Praxian's presence. There was something fascinating about the mech that Jazz hadn't been able to put a name too yet. "Do you have plans for the afternoon?"

"Continue working my way around the show until closing, then a meal and recharge," Prowl laid out a simple but very busy orn.

"Would you like company?" Jazz asked, not wanting to lose Prowl's company just yet. He saw surprise flicker across the Praxian features, but the field lightly touching his made it a look of pleasure.

"If it is yours," Prowl said shyly. "Yes, I would like company."

"I don't see any reason why I can't continue looking for my uncle and spend my afternoon with you." Jazz said, pleased at the sign that Prowl seemed interested in remaining in his company.

"We are doing the same thing," Prowl agreed. "Would you like a sweet before we head back?"

"If you would like to share one with me." Jazz smiled, field reaching out to just brush against the edge of Prowl's as the Praxian considered it.

"I would," Prowl nodded after a moment and signaled the waiter for a dessert menu. "How sweet do you like?"

"I'm not sure there exists a sweet tolerance worse than mine." Jazz said, visor lighting in amusement. "And I am very partial to rust coated anything. My carrier...my carrier used to tease that I would eat construction scrap with enough rust coating on it."

Prowl nodded, his field flickering with sympathy at what he was sure Jazz had lost. "The Atelixi?"

"Sounds good," Jazz said agreeably after a glance at the description. It wasn't all that sweet, not by his standards, but the rust was heavy and he got a distinct feeling that it was sweeter than Prowl typically chose.

"If you were ordering for yourself, what would you have chosen?" Jazz asked after the order had been placed and the server had departed.

"The cattari," Prowl said easily. "My preferences run far more bitter and savory than you, and most everyone else I have met."

"Nothing wrong with that." Jazz answered easily, filing the information away for later use. Or at least the hope that he would have reason to use it later.

"Does your love of sweets run in the family?" Prowl tried for an easy subject.

There was a small, sad smile on Jazz's face as he answered. "It is much in line with my carrier's. It probably did not help that she spoiled me shamelessly in this when no one else was looking. There was a time when I was very small that I snuck into the kitchen pantry and got into the rust powder coating. Our cook found me sitting in the middle of a mess licking it off my hands. They both laughed at me before she swept me off to clean me up."

There was a pause before he continued. "After that the cook was constantly on the lookout for me. But any time I wandered in there was usually a small treat waiting for me to take as I was herded back out the door."

"You sound a lot like my brother," Prowl smiled faintly at the story. "Though I'm not sure he was quite so discriminate about what he got into. By the time he stopped sneaking treats from the pantry he was sneaking regular energon for the strays he's always bringing home."

"Sounds like he has a big spark." Jazz murmured.

"Yes," Prowl agreed thoughtfully. "I believe he does. It is another good reason to keep his access to the business accounts limited. He does not have the self-control needed to maintain the credit flow for a healthy trade business."

"A very good point." Jazz agreed, secretly admiring the first insights to Prowl's ability to balance family and business and, he suspected, keep both sides happy. They both paused as a confection was brought out. A crust of pressed rust held in jellied jet highgrade energon and was dusted with silicon, copper and silver.

Prowl offered Jazz the first bite.

Jazz leaned over, taking the bite delicately and melting into a soft purring lump of mech at the sort of treat that he had not experienced in a long time. He quickly found the plate pushed a bit closer to him, though Prowl did dip a utensil into the filling to claim a taste. Jazz took another small bite, savoring it slowly and allowing the pleasure to bleed into his field for his companion to feel as well.

"You don't get many treats anymore, do you?" Prowl asked softly.

The slender mech stuttered for just a moment on his next bite, smoothly moving the dish closer to Prowl before speaking. "My Uncle took over the family business when my creators passed. Things have been rather tight lately."

"They seem to be improving," Prowl offered. "It seems a rather extreme measure to take given the decrease was not that severe."

"Uncle decided that initial drastic measures were the best option. He has been relaxing things recently." Jazz said, trying to explain things away before Prowl pushed too deep.

Prowl nodded. He did not agree, but it was not his place to question the choices of a business in another city. He did not have all the facts. Instead he took another mouthful of the filling. "Go ahead and finish it," he nudged it towards Jazz. "You're enjoying the treat more than I am."

"Please help yourself to any more that you want." Jazz offered, even as he dug into the treat once more, allowing the ripple of pleasure to cover the darker emotions he was feeling so he didn't have to concentrate on blocking them.

"I will," Prowl promised as he relaxed in the chair to watch, and feel, the other mech's pleasure. It was nice, very nice. It reminded him of the welcome attention he was paid when a mech wanted his company.

He promptly shut that line of thought down before it went to pain that was a little too fresh. Still, if Jazz was this easy to bribe into feeling good, maybe there would be more to come. He'd make sure to have _real_ sweets, the kind his brother liked but with plenty of rust, if Jazz came over for the hot oil soak.

"So are you looking for anything specific at the show this afternoon?" Jazz asked as he worked his way through the treat.

"Not really," Prowl admitted. "I'm here to check out new products primarily. I'm not the one that does the soft contacts. That's for my cousin, Smokescreen. You'll likely cross paths with him eventually."

"That could be interesting." Jazz said with a smile, settling down to finish the off the treat so that they could back to show.

"He usually is," Prowl agreed with a slight smile.

SxSxSxSxSxSxSxSx S===================S SxSxSxSxSxSxSxS

With a content sigh the slender blue and black mech slid deeper into the hot oil, frame going lax as the smooth liquid rose to his chin and suffused his entire frame. Nearby was still most of a plate of energon sweets, all of them to Jazz's taste, the flavor of which were still lingering on his glossa. Also nearby was his companion, the Praxian he had spent most of the orn with and in whose suite he was now relaxing.

Jazz was sure he knew the price that Prowl was going to demand for his attention and companionship. But if an interface was the price for being in the company of someone who at least acted like Jazz was interesting and they wished to be around him for who he was, it was a price he was willing pay.

Across from him Prowl was genuinely smiling, a look of relaxed pleasure. His meal had gone down smoothly, a grade a bit stronger than he usually had at the end of the orn. He expected he'd need it however. He knew he was poor company on his best orns, and less than a metacycle after being left by his latest lover, he was not having many good orns. Yet Jazz was tolerating him, his social failings and his general inclination not to talk unless it was business or he was prompted.

It was entirely too nice to be paid attention to like this for him to care if it was just an excuse to get in his berth. He'd paid for berthmates, he wasn't adverse to being paid for the use of his frame. His price just didn't tend to be in credits, and the offers usually came when he was out of Praxus or Vos and his sensor wings were enough to turn helms.

The oil in the pool rippled as Jazz shifted around, drifting closer so that more of his field touched Prowl's, sharing the relaxed contentment that filled the other mech and feeling it in return.

Prowl's field held a flicker of nervousness before the mech spoke. "Will you be spending the night?" he asked softly.

Something in both Prowl's tone and field felt off to Jazz, but he couldn't place what. Jazz's visor flickered, focusing on his companion as he tried to sort through what he was picking up from Prowl and the minor panic that was racing through him.

"I can't." He finally managed, though there was a note of regret in the answer. "My uncle would be furious."

Surprise and confusion were the last things he expected, but they were clear in Prowl's field. "You ... my apologies," Prowl quickly backpedaled even as he became more confused. "I assumed you would expect to. How late is safe for you?"

There was no hiding the matching surprise in Jazz's field. "I...had assumed the same." He checked the time. "I have several more joors, unless he calls for me sooner." Jazz shifted in the pool, rising a little as he kept a wary gaze on his companion. "Though I can go now..."

"Wait," Prowl reached out, desperate to prevent his social inadequacies from ending the evening like this. "I'd like you to stay. I like your company."

Slowly Jazz sank back down into the pool, field reaching out to cautiously brush once more against Prowl's as he looked for truth to back up what he was hearing and he found it. "I have enjoyed your company this orn as well. I would like to stay a little longer...no cost?"

"No cost," Prowl promised. "You ... like ... my company?"

"Or course." Jazz's helm tilted to the slide as he studied his companion from across the pool. "You are interesting. Pleasant to be around." And quite honestly different from anyone Jazz had ever met. Cool and calculating he knew well. But while many had those skills, Jazz had never met someone who seemed to have the warmth and passion underneath to make them more than a machine that Jazz thought he saw in Prowl.

"Forgive my reaction. I haven't heard that from anyone who wasn't just trying to get me in a berth," Prowl admitted. "Even my creators are well aware of my lack of social graces, much to my carrier's chagrin."

"Sometimes honest is a nice change." Jazz commented gently as he settled the rest of the way into the oil bath once more, and once more close enough for his field to remain in constant contact with Prowl's. "There is no wrong to forgive."

"Honest I can do," Prowl smiled shyly as his field warmed and relaxed. "Why would your uncle object to you spending the night in another room?"

"This is my first time out. He doesn't trust me to be careful enough yet." Jazz explained, glossing over it like it was not a big deal as he dared to slip a little farther into the warmth of that field.

"Careful enough?" Prowl frowned. "What trouble could you get into?"

Jazz chuckled softly. "Mostly he is worried about me saying or doing something that could compromise the business. I check in with him every so often, and I am supposed to return the family suite before the orn is out."

"Then we can enjoy the evening without any more talk of who owes who for their company," Prowl suggested shyly.

"I like that idea very much." Jazz responded, reaching over the edge of he pool to shift the two plates of confections within easy reach as he slid around close enough to physically touch the other mech and indulge in the quiet small talk they had been sharing all orn. At this range he felt Prowl relax like he hadn't before. Gratitude, enjoyment and a very deep pleasure suffused the Praxian's field and wove into Jazz's.

SxSxSxSxSxSxSxSx S===================S SxSxSxSxSxSxSxS

The show was busy even winding down as it was the next morning. Often there was little to be found as mecha were packing up to head home, but sometimes there were good deals to be had, if one could find a mech who was looking to make a final transaction before they departed or would rather break even on an item than haul it home and pay for more shipping.

Even if Jazz had to admit to himself that he was there more for the company of the mech walking beside him than for any business that might benefit his uncle. He would have to come up with something to prove that his final excursion had been beneficial to the elder mech, but Jazz would worry about that later.

If nothing else he still had that small picture tucked away in his subspace, and he had gotten a good deal on it. He'd continued to pick up contact and merchandise information from every vendor they crossed paths with.

"Well now, look who has company," a teasing voice, lighter than Prowl's but with the same accent, warned Prowl that his sire's older brother's creation was there a moment before the brightly painted Praxian draped himself over Prowl's shoulder.

"Don't you have somewhere else to be?" Prowl grumbled without any real displeasure. Truth was he liked his cousin despite not understanding him at all.

"Nope," the brightly colored Praxian grinned shamelessly. "Aren't you going to introduce me?"

Prowl vented sharply. "Jazz, this is my sire's brother's creation, Smokescreen."

"Good to meet you," Smokescreen smoothly rolled from Prowl's shoulder to extend his hand to Jazz.

"And you." Jazz responded just as easily as he took the other mech's hand, friendliness radiating from every inch of the blue and black mech. "Prowl mentioned that he had other family running around here. Apparently I do get to meet some of them."

"Smokescreen would be mortified if I had met a mecha he hadn't," Prowl took in his cousin's apprizing look at Jazz and gave a faint subsonic rumble as his sensor wings flared, one reaching out to slap at Smokescreen's near sensor wing.

The brightly colored Praxian took a sideways step away from both Prowl and Jazz with a startled expression. A nanoklik later a slag-eating grin spread across his face. "Are you bringing him home then?" he purred.

"No," Prowl dropped his sensor wings to their normal position and shot Jazz an apologetic look.

There was a momentary flare of surprise and confusion in Jazz's field. Emotions that never reached the smile of amusement on his face as he looked between the two. "Unfortunately I have to go home. Though from what Prowl has told me of Praxus I do hope to be able to visit the city some orn."

"I'm sure you'll find a warm welcome when you do," Smokescreen gave his cousin a teasing grin before sauntering off.

"I am sorry," Prowl's expression went from apologetic to rather mortified. "I had no right to do that. I didn't think..."

"That your cousin would be that obnoxious?" Jazz finished, teasing. He was rewarded by relief washing through Prowl's field and features. After a moment a serious edge crept into Jazz's field, along with a great deal of hesitation as he pulled a datachip from his subspace and offered it to Prowl.

It was accepted with a shy smile and real delight as Prowl offered his in return. "I included all the shows and conventions I expect to attend in the next few vorns," he said, feeling rather daring and hopeful all at once. A small part of him was guarded, having been treated like this before and never heard from the mecha again, but he had to keep hoping that _eventually_ one of his efforts would be rewarded.

"I'll see how many of them I can convince my Uncle to let me attend." Jazz promised, everything about him screaming sincerity. "He seemed pleased with my work last night."

"I'm glad to hear that," Prowl's sensor wings rose slightly in excitement. "What can we do in these final joors to improve that impression?"

"He was complaining about the lack of good textiles available this time." Jazz said. "If I can bring him back a good source contact and a sample he'll probably be very happy."

"I know some that are here but didn't bring many textiles this vorn, or couldn't attend this vorn," he offered, willing to give that much to a potential rival to see Jazz again. "They aren't major manufacturers, but they do make a quality product we are willing to trade in."

"Contacts and digital samples would be fine." Jazz said, excitement flaring in his field, warring with something else as he continued. "And at least one of the orders would be small. My Uncle's bonded wishes to redecorate some of the main complex."

Prowl nodded and shifted into mission mode. His entire manner changed as he moved with purpose to get to his destination quickly. Despite that Prowl was still walking, Jazz nearly had to jog to keep up, and was amazed at how smoothly the crowd parted for Prowl like this. It would seem that his companion could have quite the commanding air when he wished, despite his age and status, and Jazz's hopes rose even more of actually being successful.

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"You are sure?" Darksky asked, looking as his brother's creation as they waited for his oldest to arrive as his bonded hovered at his side.

"Without a doubt," Smokescreen nodded. "They exchanged personal information chips after I walked away. He was in Prowl's room two nights in a row, and with him most of the third and all of the final orn of the show. That wing-slap I got wasn't a light one either."

Starbright twitched slightly at that. "For him to be that possessive so soon after Prism leaving him..."

"We'll see what he has to say on the matter." Darksky said firmly as the door opened, admitting their creation.

Prowl froze at one look of the gathering. Smokescreen got a scowl, but his creators received a polite dip of his wings. "What is wrong?" he asked with typical bluntness.

"We were told that you made a friend at the trade show. Care to tell us about him?" Darksky asked, matching his creation's bluntness.

"I hope he will be a friend, yes," Prowl nodded. "Given Smokescreen's presence, I expect you know all about Jazz's file, family connections and my inappropriate response to Smokescreen's flirting. There is little to tell. I bought him a couple meals and we talked."

"You are aware then that his family is suspected of black market dealing and having ties to the crime world of Kaon?" His sire pushed, needing Prowl to see the possible consequences of this association.

Prowl completely deflated. "No, I did not have that information," he said quietly.

"How serious are you about him dear?" His carrier interrupted, casting a glance at her mate. If the new mech was only a rebound, a temporary thing, perhaps there was a chance they could let it play out on its own.

"We were only hoping to be friends," Prowl said quietly. "Interfacing isn't something either of us is that inclined to. Mecha who want to be around me and not just to get in my berth have not been common. I hoped he would be one."

That made both of his creators pause for a moment, considering this new angle. It was true that their creation did not have many friends, and as much as they feared the potential of Prowl being hurt they did not wish to deny him a friend if he had found one. It was true that Jazz was not an important member of his family, which minimalized the risk he presented to some degree.

"You intend to see him again?" Darksky finally asked.

Prowl paused, really considering it. "We made no firm plans. He did not know if he would be attending any more shows or conventions. If we cross paths again, yes, I would like to. It was very pleasant to simply relax with someone who did not want anything of me."

"You exchanged personal datachips," Smokescreen countered with a scowl. "You offered that to a potential _friend_?"

Prowl locked gazes with him. "I understand why you find it such a difficult idea to grasp, but yes, a potential friend is more valuable to me than a potential lover."

"What do you see in him?" Starbright asked her creation, soft optics focusing on Prowl and turning his attention from his cousin.

Prowl gave the question careful consideration. "A mech that is very much like Bluestreak," he eventually answered, cringing internally at the real truth; he'd seen a mech that might just become his mate. "He's intelligent, social, curious, well-educated and ... he likes my company. Which is enough right there to hold my attention for a few orns, even if he was too dumb to realize who I am. Only he knows, and he still treats me like I was just another mech he wanted to hang out with. It feels good, even if it's just for a few orns."

There was silence again as his creators considered and discussed between themselves. They could forbid Prowl to see the other mechling, knowing that their eldest was usually obedient and compliant to their wishes.

On the other side though, he was strong willed and intelligent, with a processor all his own. And a spark that was still hurting. Finally Darksky focused on his creation again.

"I will not try and define your relationship with him right now. I will ask that you be very careful in what you share with him. Even if he has no intention of harming you, intent is not always enough to keep someone safe."

"I understand, sire," Prowl canted his wings in full acceptance of the directive. "I will be careful. The business will not suffer because I gave him too much."

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Ankmor Park was always one of Prowl's favored showed to attend. He liked the city's aesthetic, the balanced, harmonious feel of the people here, and the relatively low population density for a territorial capitol. This time he had another reason to be excited to attend. Excited and very nervous. Tonight could well be the last time Jazz spoke to him willingly. Yet that was a risk he had to take. He had to know, for himself, his family and his business, what Jazz wanted from him and what Jazz knew about his own family ties.

They'd spent the entire orn together, chatting, snacking and cruising the vendors. Both made the occasional purchases or arrangements and collected contact information in their very different ways. Jazz sweet talked and made the vendors like him to give him a deal. Prowl was stiff, all business, hard dealing and made them see a mech that could spread their goods into the very lucrative market that was Praxus.

Between them they were devastatingly effective and Prowl wasn't the only one who noticed.

By the time they retreated to Prowl's suite near closing for the orn they were both ready to settle in for a long soak, a good cube of energon and some treats.

Jazz's field where it touched his was bright and welcoming, and he smiled at Prowl as they entered the room, already looking forward to the soak and the company. "A productive orn." He commented.

"Very productive," Prowl agreed as led the way to the hot oil pool with their evening energon and treats waiting for them. "I do have some serious things we need to talk about before we relax too much."

He had Jazz's full attention in an instant, blue visor focused on Prowl as Jazz settled at the edge of the pool. "Yes?" He asked, without any of his normal levity.

Prowl sank into the hot oil and picked up his cube. He shut down most of his emotional center so he could focus completely on the truth of Jazz's words, and what wasn't said. "When I returned home after our encounter, I had two very upset creators to contend with thanks to my cousin. It seems he knows your family better than I did. There are potential issues with our association if he is to be believed."

Jazz went very still. "You would be referring to my uncle's black market dealings and underworld connections." He finally concluded softly.

"Yes," Prowl sighed, glad that Jazz was willing to come clean about it but unhappy that it was true. "My family is scrupulously clean of such connections. It would be an embarrassment for it to become common knowledge that I was not upholding the family standards."

Pain and sadness rippled through Jazz's field before the smaller mech could stop them. And for a moment the war that was being waged inside him was visible even to Prowl.

"He is very careful that there is never enough proof." He murmured finally before forcing himself to look up. "I guess...this is the last time I will see you, then."

"That would depend on how clean you are, and remain," Prowl said carefully, all too aware of the line he was treading. "I do have the right to choose my friends, few as they may be. As long as _you_ stay clean and visibly outside of the inner circle of your family, I have enough economic clout to willfully ignore what they may or may not be up to."

Jazz laughed softly, a bitter edge to the sound. "I will be whatever my uncle wants. But for now...he was pleased with my work in Iacon, and allowed me to come here. There is a good chance that I will remain on the visible side of the legitimate business. He has...few enough that he can trust with such things."

"So long as you are, we have no reason to avoid each other," Prowl said simply, motioning to the pool and Jazz's energon. "If he is as smart as he is reported to be, he will see the value in keeping you very clean, so as not to strain any connection you have developed with me. It is not inaccurate to say that I am a very valuable contact in Praxus and in general. My family's reputation is well known. It would be a disadvantage to him to have me publicly denounce our friendship. Never mind how much it would anger me."

"I can make no promises as to what he will do." Jazz warned softy as he finally allowed his frame to sink into the pool, his field starting to relax as the warmth spread through him despite the emotion tension still pulling at him. "But I promise to do my best to see that he continues to value my services where they are."

"That is all I ask," Prowl stated evenly. "I do understand where your control ends. This does mean that business, particularly my business, is not an acceptable subject of conversation. My creators are very concerned that we would be compromised if I told you too much, or allowed you to use my designation as a contact." He paused to sip his energon. "So long as we both respect those boundaries, there is no reason we can not remain friends."

The other mech nodded slowly, finally gathering his energon and starting to sip at it slowly, sinking farther into the warmth and a little closer to his friend. This had ended far better than he'd feared when it began, and the warmth, good energon and the honest relief in Prowl's field all made the rest of the evening look brighter.

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Jazz wandered through the Gardens of Praxus, amazement and delight constantly flaring in his field for the mech walking with him to feel. After several vorns of meeting when they could at trade conventions, walking along like this with his field blended with Prowl's was comforting and almost second nature.

His presentation of the Praxian to his uncle as a valuable but fragile business contact, and all of the supposed reasons that made Prowl such, where what allowed him to continue to spend so much time in the Praxian's presence. It was a small bit of incomplete information that Jazz had no issues with perpetuating and Prowl was happy to encourage.

"This is amazing." He murmured again to his companion as he stopped to take in a crystal structure that dwarfed them both, reflecting the light in a multitude of colors as it stretched skyward in a complex double helix.

"It is," Prowl smiled at his friend and kept a careful check on the desire he had come to feel when Jazz was near. It wasn't physical attraction, he was well aware of what that felt like, but the desire to have this mech as his mate that was built on friendship, common ground, understanding and the gradual embrace of feeling safe with him. Knowing how much Jazz shied away from intimacy, Prowl had done his best to keep his feelings in check, though he knew he didn't always succeed. He had always been grateful when those slips did not seem to damage the friendship that Prowl valued far more than pleasure. "I am glad you could escape this long. It would be wrong for you to visit Praxus and not see the Helix Gardens."

"I'm thankful you have the time to show them to me. I wish I could stay longer." There was a note of longing in Jazz's voice and field, as well as a muted sense of something deeper.

"As do I," Prowl's desires flared to the surface before they were controlled once more. "Perhaps when you have your final upgrades you will be able to travel more freely."

Jazz's visor flickered. It was not the first time he had felt such desire from the Praxian, and quickly muted his own response. Prowl was intelligent, attractive, perfect, wealthy, powerful.

And completely out of Jazz's league.

"Going to show me the rest?" He prompted lightly, offering a smile to cover the moment.

"For as long as you can stay," Prowl struggled not to lean into that hint of responding desire from Jazz. He knew, without details, that his friend did not have a good history with interfacing and he didn't want to damage their friendship by pursuing the desires they both had. If Jazz wanted him, Jazz would have to make some move towards it first. He wouldn't hurt Jazz by acting like those who'd abused the younger mech.

That warm smile lit again, and with a wave Jazz signaled for him to lead the way.

They wandered that way until both had mostly lost track of time, and it was only when they reached the edge of the gardens that Jazz seemed to come back to reality with a start a moment of panic.

"We can get back without breaking too many traffic laws," Prowl reassured him as he led Jazz towards the nearest driving road.

The smaller mech stalled at the edge of the garden. "You don't have to take me back. I don't want you in trouble because I lost track of time."

There was a moment of hesitation that gave way to decision as Jazz pulled Prowl closer and reached up to find the Praxian's lips with his own.

Prowl's response died with that touch. A tremor raced down his frame as he reached to draw Jazz fully against him. He parted his lips to deepen the kiss with all the desire and passion he'd been holding back for nearly a vorn. A low moan escaped, his hands running down Jazz's back as his sensor wings spread fully and the three fingers separated and quivered in a display meant to attract his desired mate.

With the open acceptance and eager response the rest of Jazz's hesitation faded away as his frame melted against Prowl's as a multitude of emotions flickered through his field rapidly.

"Wow." He murmured, visor lighting as the kiss broke and he caught sight of the gloriously spread sensor wings.

Prowl leaned forward to capture Jazz's mouth once more, his frame all but burning with desire he knew there was no time to indulge in.

He found no resistance from the mech in his arms, Jazz trembling when they broke again and he finally found his voice. "Need to go." He whispered, though his field spoke of an entirely different desire.

"I know," Prowl trembled as he forced himself to let go, his field rich with how badly he wanted to keep Jazz close and his hands lingered as long as he dared. "When I see you next, we can try that again?"

"Yes." Complete agreement and a matching desire met his question as Jazz nuzzled him quickly before stepping back before they could get lost in another kiss. "I should be in Iacon again, in two metacycles."

"I'll be there," Prowl promised with a heavy vent before stepping into the transformation lane. "I will see you to the hotel."

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Prowl gasped as his hand worked his spike, his frame close enough to overloading that little could stop it. His processors were on the touch and feel of Jazz, hot with desire in his arms as they'd kissed. Time was passing painfully slow. Two metacycles should have come and gone with barely a notice in his busy existence, but it seemed like every orn took ten and a vorn passed faster than this metacycle.

When his comm pinged he was too far gone to answer, though he was aware of it and coherent enough to wonder why the door guard to the tower would be contacting _him_.

The pleasure of the overload tore through him, shattering and scattering his thoughts until he turned his optics back on to see his carrier standing at the side of his berth with a cleaning cloth in one hand.

"You have company, and the guard is insisting that you meet them at the door," she informed him calmly.

"Company that can't just come up?" Prowl focused his optics with difficulty even as he took the cloth and wiped himself clean.

"Yes. It seems Jazz is at the door, and he is not in the kind of shape that Lockjaw wants to let wander around," she said firmly, watching as coherency returned to her eldest creation.

"I'll find out what happened," Prowl promised as he stood and gave a last glance to make sure he was presentable.

Starbright simply nodded acceptance and followed him out of his room.

The cause of the doorkeeper's reluctance was quickly evident when Prowl arrived on the ground floor lobby.

The trembling, somewhat disheveled individual was a far cry from the neat and collected mech that Prowl had shown through the Helix Gardens and held in arms not a metacycle before.

Jazz froze as Prowl arrived in the entryway, his visor brightening for an instant before looking down again, ashamed. "Prowl-." He started softly.

"What in Primus' designation happened to you?" Prowl's tone was all concern, his field backing it up as he stepped close and drew Jazz close. "I'll take it from here. Thank you Lockjaw."

The guard nodded and returned to his post.

"Uncle and I had a disagreement. I left." Jazz shuddered in his arms, the word such a simply summary of his escape from the house and subsequent trip half away around Cybertron to the only place he could think of as _safe_.

"How permanently?" Prowl asked as he nudged Jazz towards the penthouse lift.

"He's already had me disowned." Jazz admitted from Prowl's arms, moving where directed without resistance, too tired and worn to argue. "Been less than four orns."

Shock rippled through Prowl's field, but he held his questions until the lift doors closed. "That is quite a disagreement," he murmured.

"He's furious." Jazz said, managing to focus for a bit. "Shouldn't have come. Didn't know where else to go though..."

"I'm glad you came," Prowl held him gently but firmly. "No matter how angry he is, he's in no position to challenge me. I'll destroy him if he tries."

A small sound, mixed pain and relief, escaped Jazz as he leaned into the touch. "It was a bonding contract. He wanted me to honor the agreement he had made." Jazz explained as his field finally started to relax.

Prowl was dumbstruck, frozen until the doors opened into the entry room. Only then did he collect himself enough to speak. "You are not going back," he said firmly. "You'll stay with me until you have your final upgrades and are ready to be on your own."

Another shiver ran through the mech in arms, confusion and exhaustion clear as he was guided from the lift and into the Prowl's home. "Thank you."

Prowl sent a wave of support through his field. "When was your last refueling?"

"Last orn." Jazz admitted after a moment. "Contact who didn't care much for my uncle much gave me some, and a place to recharge for a couple joor."

Prowl nodded and guided Jazz through double doors and into the pantry on the right. He grabbed a couple high grade candies and gently pressed one to Jazz's lips while his other arm helped support the lighter mech. As soon as Jazz realized what he was being offered the candy disappeared far faster than would have normally been good for his system, but as starved as his systems currently thought they were for energy he wasn't able to fight it, attention fixing on the one still in Prowl's hand.

With a smile Prowl lifted it to Jazz's lips and watched it disappear, then reached for a cube of midgrade. The cube was offered the same way.

By then Jazz reached up, slightly ashamed, and held out the hand. It was bad enough that Prowl was holding him steady for the most part, without the other mech having to feed him as well.

"But I rather like to," Prowl purred softly, affection weaving between their fields as he let go of the cube so Jazz could hold it. "Though I'll like it more when it's for fun than because you're shaking."

"Sorry." Jazz replied, the first hint of a smile appearing at the other mech's attempt at humor as he started on the cube, forcing himself to move more slowly.

"Don't be," Prowl murmured. "You'll feel a lot better when you've processed the energon, had a good hot shower and night's recharge."

"All of that sounds wonderful." Jazz admitted, a little strength creeping back into his field as the energon he was processing started to steady his frame. Soon his leaning against the other mech was more a desire for contact than an actual need of support to stay upright.

"Good," Prowl smiled and rubbed Jazz's side gently. "When you're finished with that cube we'll get you cleaned up, then more energon, then recharge. As bad as you look and feel, I've helped nurse many a creature back from far worse conditions."

Jazz worked on finishing off the cube at the second mention of a shower, his field revealing just how much he was looking forward to being clean once more as he tried to sort through that last comment.

Finally he reached the conclusion that he didn't care as the last drops of energon were drained from the cube.

Prowl subspaced a full cube, a small handful of rust sticks and a few jellies before guiding Jazz towards the residential wing on the second floor. They passed through the large, partially divided room that was a combination of berthroom, study, entertainment center and display space with little comment. The washrack door on the far wall was what had Jazz's attention.

"Is your uncle likely to send someone after you?" Prowl asked as they stepped into a beautifully crafted washrack with a large shower, hot oil pool large enough for three and a few devices that Jazz couldn't readily identify.

His attention was occupied for by the washrack thoroughly enough that it took Jazz a moment to answer.

"I don't know." He admitted. "He was furious with me, but sending someone after me would draw more attention than simply disowning me, as he has already done. Especially if I am quiet."

"Then you can be quiet for a few vorns," Prowl said simply as he turned on the solvent spray and set it to warm and guided Jazz under it. "I'd rather not stir up trouble if it isn't going to come looking for us."

"If he doesn't think I am any threat to him I'm not worth the energy, especially since there would be nothing for him to prove." Jazz said, moaning softly as the first shower of solvent hit his plating and starting running down his frame, grime streaking away to flow down the drain in the floor.

"He'll lose some face with the family that made the offer, but the risk versus the gain is very high for something that is easily made up other ways." He added, turning some to allow the solvent to reach other places on his frame.

"Good," Prowl relaxed slightly as he poured a thicker solvent onto a cleaning cloth and began to work on Jazz's frame, starting with the very top points; the stubby sensory horns.

The first few strokes left Jazz whimpering and trembling again, hands reaching out to brace against the wall of the washrack at the attention. If he wasn't so tired what would have been flaring through his field would have been full blown pleasure. As it was, the intense feeling of _good_ was strong enough for Prowl to pick up.

"Sensitive," the Praxian purred, delighted with his find. Reluctantly he moved down to the top of Jazz's helm, his strokes firm but gentle as he worked to remove orns of travel dirt from his friend's frame.

"Very." Jazz murmured in agreement, relaxing into the touch and care he was feeling. "Especially to sound and vibration."

"I'll keep that in mind for when you feel up to kissing again," Prowl didn't hide the desire he still felt for that moment and the anticipation of repeating it. "Anything that brings you pleasure so easily will be delightful to play with."

The other mech hummed, the melodic sound as much of a response as he could muster to the desire being expressed and the wonderfully soothing feeling of Prowl's touch on his armor. "Will have to find yours then." He added without really thinking about what he was saying at the moment.

"I look forward to it," Prowl whispered as his hands moved down to Jazz's neck and the bundles of cabling that collected all sorts of dirt. "This is going to take a while," he added as he reached for a small brush to work on the complex geometry of the cable bundles.

"I'll try not to fall into recharge on you." Jazz murmured from where he was still leaning against the wall. "Can help, if you have another scrub." He offered after a moment.

"Just set your joints and let yourself recharge," Prowl smiled and leaned forward to give a gentle brush of his lips against the base of Jazz's helm. "You'll be clean when you boot."

"Thank you." The smaller mech mumbled, field reaching out to brush against Prowl's affectionately as obeyed, joints locking to keep him upright as systems dropped into standby.

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Warmth and comfort, two things that Jazz couldn't remember feeling in quite a while as he came out of recharge. Slowly his optics came online, snapping to fully functional as he sat up and tried to figure out where he was.

Then everything came back in rush. Prowl greeting him at the door, guiding a shaking, filthy, exhausted Jazz to the lift. Feeding him energon and then leading to a glorious washroom and the last thing Jazz could recall, urging him to relax as Prowl scrubbed away the dirt and grime.

For a moment Jazz was sure that it had all been a dream. A wonderful, glorious dream. But sitting on a side table within reach was a cube of energon that looked exactly like the one he had consumed the night before, a rust coated confection resting beside it. A datapad was beside it with a short note on it.

_Recharge until you are well rested. I am sorry I could not stay. I will return before the noon meal._

_Prowl_

Realizing just how late it was, Jazz was not surprised that the Praxian was gone. He scooted to the edge of the berth and picked up the cube of energon, sipping at it slowly and carefully, not so much worried about waste as about the possibility of making a mess in quarters that were not his own.

As he looked around it came home all that much harder that he had _nothing_. At the moment he was completely dependent on the good will of others for his very survival. A rather terrifying thought the longer he contemplated it.

He had no skills of value here; Prowl was so much better than he'd ever be at business. Bluestreak was the social one, and there was Smokescreen too. His contacts were mostly burned, and the rest didn't have enough to buy him much. All he had was himself.

A faint shiver passed through his frame as it sank in. Himself. His frame. Yes, he'd been inclined to offer himself to Prowl when they'd parted last, but that was when Jazz didn't _need_ anything.

His processors twisted around that as he finished the cube and the door slid open.

"Feeling better?" Prowl asked smoothly as he glided in, his optics taking in his friend.

"Much. Thank you." Jazz answered from where he was still hunched on the edge of the berth, not daring to look up and meet the other mech's gaze. Not sure of what he might find in those pale blue optics.

"What's wrong?" Prowl asked as he closed the distance and reached to tip Jazz's face up.

Jazz stared at him. How did one describe having absolutely nothing?

"Worthless." He finally settled, one hand making a small gesture that indicated he was talking about himself. He might be entertaining for now, but surely Prowl would grow bored with him, weary of caring for him, and Jazz would be back on his own.

Prowl cocked his helm. "What makes you say that?"

"I have nothing, except a ruined reputation and burned bridges." Jazz answered quietly.

Prowl hummed and sat down next to him on the berth to draw Jazz close. "You don't even have your final upgrades yet. You have plenty of time to build a new reputation, a new life. You have a lot of potential."

Jazz's frame where it touched his was stiff and unyielding. "And where am I going to do that?"

"Here," Prowl said firmly. "I meant what I said. You are welcome here. I am willing to invest in your future."

Hope flared in Jazz's field as he leaned against Prowl, helm rising to nuzzle at Prowl hesitantly.

"All I ask for my support is that you work towards a goal that will allow you to support yourself in time," Prowl rubbed Jazz's side. "It does not need to be trade. It does need to be something that will contribute."

Jazz hummed softly. "I will think." He promised, still thinking. "What...about the rest of your family?"

"Will accept you," Prowl said with the kind of firmness that meant he would force it if need be. "It is not the family's credits that are being spent. They do not have much of a say in how I spend what is mine."

"Yours?" Jazz repeated as that finally registered, looking up at Prowl.

"I have a personal income from the business," Prowl nodded. "It is more than enough to cover this."

Jazz was silent as all of that filtered through his processor. The claim that Prowl was making on him, and all of what it potentially entailed.

A part of him wanted to shy away from that implication, fighting valiantly against the idea of being under the control of anyone ever again.

While another part of him wanted to be just where he was, wrapped in Prowl's arms, tucked safety against the Praxian's side, and being offered the promise of support from the one mecha he had always been able to trust.

"Thank you." It was repetitive, and so insignificant in comparison what Prowl had already done, and what he was offering in the future. But it was all Jazz had to offer at the moment, and as his field flooded out to weave with Prowl's he hoped it would be enough.

Pleasure filtered back to him. Pleasure that the support had been accepted. Pleasure at Jazz's presence. Pleasure that Prowl could do this.

"You are welcome," Prowl kissed the top of Jazz's helm. "Are you ready to face the rest of the family, or would you like to recover some more first?"

Jazz vented softly. "Better now than later, I would guess." He concluded, looking up at Prowl questioningly.

"Better when you are ready than sooner," Prowl said gently. "This is their first impression of you in person."

Jazz looked down at the scuffed and dull armor plating of his arm. If that was any indication of what the rest of him looked like just getting cleaned up enough to be considered presentable was going to be a chore.

"Not sure I am ever going to be ready, but I'll make a better impression if I clean up a little first..."

"Cleaned and polished," Prowl agreed as he stood and offered Jazz a hand.

"Probably take me most of the orn." He commented as he took the offered hand finally looked down the rest of his frame with a wince. If this was how he looked now after Prowl had scrubbed him clean he must have been quite a sight the night before.

"If we do it by ourselves, yes," Prowl agreed with a hint of amusement in his field. "I have a couple specialists coming with their equipment. It will still take a couple joors, but you'll look like yourself soon."

"I would guess that I did not make a good impression showing up the way I did." He said as they crossed to the washroom without releasing his hold on Prowl's hand.

"Fortunately only the tower's guard and I actually saw you," Prowl smiled and reached to turn on the shower. "You were quite a mess."

"So I might still have a chance." Jazz said as he settled under the spray with a content sigh. "What does your family think of me?" He asked after a moment, wondering how big of a wall he was going to have to overcome, and how much trouble he was potentially going to cause for Prowl.

"Smokescreen doesn't like you, but he's only a cousin. Starbright and Bluestreak are rather partial to you because I'm fond of you. They both think that I don't socialize enough. Darksky isn't pleased about us, though his concerns are for the business and my reputation. He's largely settled down about that since it hasn't happened."

Jazz processed all of that, lining up designations with what Prowl had told him in the past. The fact that his sibling and carrier favored him would help, and there was little he could do that would endanger the trade business of their family now, which should help with Prowl's sire. Still, he was curious about one thing.

"What did I do to your cousin?"

Prowl actually laughed as he went to work on Jazz's helm. "You're competition to him. He's the same kind of social that you are and he doesn't like it. He'll get over it once he figures out you aren't going to squeeze him out."

"Wouldn't mind working with you." Jazz purred as he leaned into the touch and recalled the way the two of them had started using to make inroads on the merchants at the trade shows. "But being a merchant or trader was never something _I_ wanted to do."

"Oh?" Prowl's rumble was soft as he slid his fingers to circle the base of both sensor horns in opposite directions. "What have you _wanted_ to be?"

"Singer." Jazz managed as his frame started to tremble, pleasure and desire flaring in his field. "Always liked music."

"You have a nice voice," Prowl hummed, drinking in the response to his touch. "Do you have any training?"

"Nothing formal. Wasn't allowed." Short sentences were all that Jazz could manage at the moment, distracted by the touch to his sensor horns, so wonderful and new in way that was very nice.

"We'll see about changing that," Prowl whispered as he turned his full attention to finding out just how _good_ he could make Jazz feel with just this touch.

"Prowl..." The smaller mech moaned, melting against the Praxian for support.

"Do you want me to stop?" Prowl asked innocently, even as he spoke directly against a sensor horn.

"No." Jazz admitted, even though this wasn't doing a lot to get him cleaned up he didn't care at the moment, too caught up in what Prowl was doing.

"Good," Prowl whispered softly. His tone and field weren't quite seductive, but there was no mistaking the desire that was rising in him at the pleasure flooding Jazz's field.

Jazz melted against him, fields blending deeply until the smaller mech noticed the rapidly growing heat and desire in the Praxian holding him up. A shudder ran through Jazz, a ripple of something entirely different under the pleasure in his frame, and then complete submission as his valve cover retracted in a silent offer.

Prowl paused, a flicker of confusion before his processors caught up with events. "No one's ever been gentle with you," he murmured, somewhere between furious and hurt for his friend.

Jazz quivered, shaking his helm even as he offered again. "Take, if you want."

The passion in Prowl's field cooled quickly as he gently turned Jazz around to face him and lifted Jazz's chin up for a tender kiss. "I don't want to take. Pleasure is to be shared."

That was something of a new idea for Jazz. While he had been with mecha and come away with pleasurable results, rarely had it been because the encounter had been one he desired.

The tension that had built in his frame melted away with the kiss though, and the sincere warmth that Prowl put into the action, gentle and not in the least demanding.

Lightly Prowl rested their forehelms together. "I want to be with you, badly, but only if you feel desire as well," he barely managed to get the words out over the fear that the kiss they'd shared in the garden had been as far as Jazz would ever want to go.

Slowly Jazz's hand came up, brushing lightly against the side of Prowl's helm as their lips met again for a moment. "Can learn." He said as he realized that Prowl was trembling every so slightly. "Want to learn."

Prowl had already taught him so much, even if the Praxian didn't know it. Maybe he could show Jazz how _this_ could be different from he had known as well.

A full-frame shudder cascaded down Prowl in relief. "Then I will teach," he promised. With a soft x-vent he reorganized his intentions, determined the best way to succeed and accepted what that meant. "Not here, or now, however. A first time should be in a soft berth with plenty of time to explore."

Jazz nodded, accepting and understanding, shifting a little in Prowl's arms. "Finish cleaning up, then?" He asked, the hesitancy in his voice still at odds with the outgoing, confident mech that most usually saw.

"Yes," Prowl nodded and reached for the cloth and thick solvent again.

SxSxSxSxSxSxSxSx S===================S SxSxSxSxSxSxSxS

Jazz walked beside Prowl, still slightly in awe at being cleaner and better polished than he could remember being in his entire functioning. When Prowl had said professional team, that was exactly what he had meant. The team of three had managed to put Jazz's external appearance to rights in less than a joor.

Meaning that there was no reason for them not to be present at the mid day meal, since Jazz was both functional and presentable. And despite his friend's insistence that his family would accept Jazz, and the promise that Prowl was willing to press the issue if needed, Jazz doubted that this initial meeting was going to be a pleasant experience.

He wasn't surprised that they were the last to arrive, and he could read the assumptions about him in their faces and frame language despite the fairly formal setting. As Prowl had said, Bluestreak seemed openly curious and friendly, Starbright was poised as the consummate hostess and matriarch with a guarded acceptance, and Darksky was openly calculating and less than happy.

Prowl paused as he took it in and actually scowled at his sire before giving himself a more formal air. "Darksky, Starbright, Bluestreak, this is Jazz."

Deciding that this most definitely called for his best manners and behavior Jazz inclined his helm respectfully to Darksky and Starbright. "It is a pleasure to meet you all. Thank you for allowing me to stay the orn."

"Welcome to our home, Jazz," Starbright canted her sensor wings in reply. "Please sit with us and refresh yourself."

Prowl wordlessly urged Jazz to take an empty seat, then sat himself.

"Did you really drive all the way from Kaon in two orns?" Bluestreak couldn't contain his curiosity.

"Two and a half, yes." Jazz replied as he settled into the empty seat, doing his best to keep his tension and anxiety to himself. He felt Prowl's field extend and try to offer support, though the Praxian was nearly as nervous as he was.

"Why not take a shuttle, or drive at a more respectable rate?" Starbright asked calmly as the first course, a light, effervescent low-grade of fine quality, was served in slim, cut crystal stemware.

"I did not have the resources to afford a shuttle, or places to stay as I traveled." Jazz explained, field blending into Prowl's without Jazz realizing what he was doing consciously. Touching the Praxian, usually so solid and stable, was almost automatic to him when they were together.

His words sent a ripple around the table, Prowl being the only one that wasn't surprised.

"You couldn't afford a shuttle?" Bluestreak repeated, trying to wrap his processors around the statement.

"No. I was not expecting to leave, or to have to do so quickly. I didn't have anything with me." Jazz responded, the memories of those orns running together in his processor still.

"Why here, half way around the world?" Darksky asked evenly, a distinct clue as to where Prowl got much of his natural poise and manner from.

There was a moment of silence as Jazz faced the truth of his situation once more and confessed. "I didn't know where else to go after defying my Uncle's wishes."

The matriarch and patriarch of the family exchanged glances at that. "Because of his power, or a lack of those you trust?" Starbright asked a bit more gently.

"Both." Was the quick response, followed by a more thorough explanation. "At first I was not sure how he was going to respond, and even after he proclaimed me disowned there were few I did not trust to try and curry favor with him by handing me over anyway."

Jazz might have been the one of the few faces of the cleaner side of the family business, but he was under no illusions about most of the mecha he dealt with even in that capacity. Those that liked him well enough while he had been in his uncle's favor were just as likely to turn on him for their own gain once Jazz fell from that favor.

Darksky hummed and sipped his energon appetizer. "What, exactly, did you defy him about?"

Next to Jazz, Prowl went tense. He already knew more than he wanted to about that.

Jazz sighed, tension flooding through him in a reflection of Prowl's current state as he answered. "He was approached with a bonding offer from another family, for me. He accepted it. I refused to honor the contract he had negotiated. To say he was furious is stating his response...mildly."

Prowl focused on his energon, trying very hard to gloss over what he was hearing.

"Why would you do such a thing?" Darksky asked, his tone betraying how little he liked what he was hearing.

"Why should I not?" Jazz countered, anger flickering to life for an instant. "I found out because he called me in to tell me what orn I would be leaving to honor it."

A visible tremble ran through his frame, aggression leaving as quickly as it had come as Prowl reached over under the table to take his hand. "And I didn't want to be with _him_."

"It was for..."

"Sire. That is enough." Prowl's helm snapped up as he locked optics with Darksky, publicly challenging him for the first time. "The good of the family has limits."

"If I tell you who to bond with, you will do so," Darksky rumbled, his wings hitching upwards. "It is my right."

"Only as long as you live," Prowl replied darkly, his field and wings settling from anger to cold determination. "Then it is my choice whether to honor the contract."

Bluestreak looked between the pair, shocked and more than a little scared by what he was hearing. Jazz quivered in his own seat, the entire situation taking a worse turn than even he had anticipated.

"Prowl!" Starbright voiced the shock much of the table was feeling.

"Would you agree to a contract that would cause one of us to abandon the family?" Prowl demanded of his sire. "What is the advantage to that?"

Visor bright, Jazz scanned the room, trying to decide if he should run, and where. Pain and regret flooded his field. He should not have come. He should not have drug Prowl into this and placed the other mech in such a position. He flinched and stilled as Prowl's hand closed around his firmly.

"Would you?" Prowl demanded of his sire.

"No," Darksky consented. "I do not like that he would refuse to honor a contract."

"I do not like it either," Prowl settled as his sire did. "However, any contract that is so badly taken must have a fundamental flaw in it."

Grudgingly Darksky acquiesced to that and shifted focus to his mate for a brief but heated debate across their bond.

"As you are not yet in your final upgrades, and neither is my creation, you will be our _charge_ until your upgrades," Starbright stressed the term making him more than a guest in responsibilities on both sides. "Once you are a mech, you will either support yourself in this household as we all do, or you will become Prowl's full financial responsibility." She paused and considered her elder creation. "I will not accept a paramour living in this home. Do you both understand?"

"Yes, carrier," Prowl inclined his helm and wings in respect. "Thank you."

"Yes." Jazz responding, finding his voice quickly and hiding the shake in it admirably as he also bowed his helm.

"Good," Starbright relaxed and sipped the rest of her appetizer. "How long have you been interfacing with my creation?"

Prowl actually choked on his energon before looking up to stare at her in disbelief. The mechling seated beside him seemed far less broadsided by the question, the flicker of unease in his field more from wondering if they would believe the truth when he answered. "I haven't."

A curious optic ridge lifted as her gaze shifted to Prowl, who was still simply staring at her with a look that bordered on thinking she was insane.

"Soon, probably," Prowl mumbled to the unvoiced but blatant question. "Our last meeting ended with a first kiss."

Jazz was simply confused between the non-reaction of Prowl's family and his friend's own somewhat stunned reactions. Was that not a normal question?

"Just remember to lock your door again," Bluestreak giggled, earning a dark glare from Prowl. "I really don't need to see any more of your kinks."

While their creators didn't react, Jazz noticed the glimmer of humor in Starbright's optics. At least she thought her creation's reactions were amusing.

"If you learned to _wait_ for permission to enter you wouldn't have had that problem the first time," Prowl shot back with more aggression than he usually displayed towards his brother's innocent chatter.

"Where's the fun in that?" Bluestreak asked, bright optics revealing that he was not afraid of his elder brother's ire.

The entire exchange served to relax Jazz some, his field and frame easing as the tension started to dissipate. He also made a mental note to ask Prowl what Bluestreak was referring to. Later. In private.

"It's proper manners," Prowl hissed, the tension less in his field than his frame was displaying. "Something you would do well to learn better than you have."

Despite the verbal sparring, which turned to all the questions Jazz expected as the family interrogated him both as a long-term guest and as a potential lover for the next head of the family, Jazz felt himself relaxing more as the meal progressed. It really helped when Prowl finally relaxed, but they were both still grateful for the end of the meal and the opening to retreat to Prowl's quarters.

Jazz rose from the table when Prowl did, excusing himself gracefully and politely thanking his hosts. It wasn't until they were well down the hall and out of audio range that he finally relaxed the rest of the way, to the point that the loss of tension actually threw him off balance.

Prowl's hands were on him instantly, the larger frame against his in support. "Are you all right?" Prowl's voice was low and quiet, concerned that the meal had been too rich after Jazz's long drive.

"Yeah. That was...worse than I thought it was going to be." Jazz admitted, leaning against Prowl and welcoming the support because he could.

"A few of those questions were uncalled for," Prowl agreed as he guided Jazz to his ... their ... quarters. "Meals are not normally like that. Talk is usually business and social schedules."

Jazz chuckled softly. "The questions were fine. Especially your brother's, where he doesn't mean any harm by them. I had not...I had not expected your sire to react so poorly to my actions."

He hesitated for a moment, before adding. "Or that you disapproved of what I had done."

"To break a contract ... Jazz, this is a merchant family. We live and die by our good reputation, one built on doing what we agree to do," he tried to explain as the door closed behind them. "There is theory, and there is reality. Sire did not see how badly you wanted to avoid that bond. He didn't see what you were willing to risk. I can disapprove of breaking a contract, but I can't disapprove of _you_."

Prowl sighed deeply and guided Jazz to sit on the berth where he could hold him. "Your uncle was wrong to agree to a contract like that."

The smaller mech curled against Prowl's frame. Jazz understood what Prowl was saying, understood the unspoken laws of honor and obligation that went with such things. And wondered if they had any idea of how gray those laws were in the worlds that Jazz had come from.

"I didn't know about until after it was done and signed." He explained quietly. "I always knew that to him I was simply another piece of property to be bartered for the most the gain. I should have paid more attention."

He had allowed himself to become distracted. Distracted by the mech that held him now, and the real center of the reason that he had defied his uncle to his face and fled as he had.

"I know," Prowl murmured, trying to be soothing. "I'm sorry you had to know that side of existence. You won't be bartered here."

A soft vent, comfort at the promise, promises, that he had possibly found a better functioning.

Prowl took the silence and relaxation as grounds to move onto something that was bothering him. "Jazz, do you desire me?"

"I...yes?" Jazz tried to answer, struggling deep in his spark to find the words. He wanted to be around Prowl. Wanted to be with the mech, to feel him nearby. To be touched and held, to talk and laugh and share the happiness that wasn't just an act when he was around the Praxian, but an expression of his very spark.

"Friends do not have to be lovers," Prowl struggled himself. As much as he desired to have Jazz as his lover, he refused to surrender the friendship they had build for it. "If our kiss did not feel right..."

"No." Jazz countered, sure in this fact at least. The kisses they had shared, from that first one in the gardens, had been right. Good in a way that Jazz had not experienced before. "With you, they're wonderful."

Prowl's sensor wings sagged in relief. "Good," he whispered, his voice shaky as he tipped Jazz's face to claim a gentle kiss while his field tried to express just what he felt for Jazz. The desire, the passion, the warmth and affection.

The kiss was returned, curious and exploratory as Jazz struggled to reconcile everything that he was picking up from Prowl. Desire was something he was well familiar with, but linking it to the personal emotions and feelings that Prowl had to him was new, and something of a struggle.

When the kiss finally ended, Prowl only pulled back enough to speak. "Tell me what you like." Despite being phrased as a statement, an order, it felt much more like a question, almost a plea, from the Praxian.

Confusion flooded back through blended fields as Jazz looked at him. "I don't know. Other than being with _you_."

His arms tightened around Prowl, as much an act to comfort himself as the Praxian. "Willing to try with you. Anything."

Prowl let out a soft sound that was part arousal and part desperation as he leaned in to kiss Jazz again. This time he also gently guided his friend to lay down on the berth they'd been sitting on.

The slender mech gave in to the direction, Jazz trusting in a way that he was with no one else as he focused more on the kiss and less on the rest of his surroundings. The warmth and weight of a mecha above him rarely meant good things, but this was Prowl. This was a mech that had refused to take him before because he wanted to _share_ it with Jazz.

Strong, slender fingers worked down Jazz's side as one hand moved. The other hand rubbed pleasant circles around a sensor horn. Their merged fields spoke of Prowl's arousal in tiny zaps of energy.

From the very beginning this was different from any experience in the past, and Jazz kept reminding himself of that fact. Of the fact that the hand on his side was gentle, as were the lips that were still pressed to his. That the hand on his sensor horn was soothing, relaxing, meant to comfort and reassure.

Assurance that Jazz accepted as his hands hesitantly moved down Prowl's side. Searching, experimenting, trying something that he had never been allowed before. Every touch was met with a spike of arousal and frequently a moan of encouragement. Prowl's wings fanned out, the fingers separating as they pressed down, well into Jazz's reach.

That was enough to catch Jazz's attention, his visor brightening as he noticed the wings when the kiss broke. "For me?" He asked softly.

"Please," Prowl groaned in anticipation. "They're even more sensitive than your horns."

"Oh?" Jazz purred, shivering under Prowl as his hands found the wings, running smoothly down the slender expanses of the wings that he had always secretly admired.

"Yes..." Prowl shuddered and moaned, his entire focus turning to his wings and the pleasure surging into his sensor net from his lover's touch.

Jazz was pleased, loving the reaction he was getting from Prowl and delving deeper into this new territory. Slender, skillful fingers found their way into the fine seams, teasing the sensors underneath.

Prowl pressed his wings into the touch more firmly, blindly asking for more as his vents opened fully and fans picked up. His own touch became distracted as he trembled and panted, the energy in his field growing as the charge inside him built.

"Jazz..." he moaned shamelessly.

"Yes?" The tone was light, teasing as Jazz shivered again from the pleasure singing through Prowl's field. It wasn't _his_ pleasure, but at the same time he was enjoying every sound and response he was getting from Prowl.

A small corner of his processor noted the change, the difference, and made the first steps toward altering everything Jazz thought he knew.

"Please, more," Prowl trembled visibly, his optics on but not processing anything as his frame surrendered to the building pleasure. "Close."

His lover complied, hands riding farther up the wings, looking for more ways to pull those sounds of pleasure from his friend. Stretching, Jazz managed to even get one hand down near the base of a wing, the wider gaps providing more room for his fingers to play and explore.

Prowl trembled, gasping and burning hot from the inside. His wings pressed into the searching hands wantonly as the charge building himself him reached critical and began to jump across circuits and wires randomly.

The smaller mech beneath him whimpered, but for the first time the sound was not one of distress. The heat and charge of the Praxian's overload was different, not taken but given, it had felt _good_ to give this to his friend.

As the crackling energy began to calm, then dissipate, Prowl sank down, resting on top of Jazz as he tried to regulate systems thrown out of whack. Gradually he nuzzled his new lover, then kissed Jazz's jaw. "That felt very good."

"I'm glad." Jazz murmured, turning his helm enough to reach's Prowls lips for another kiss, ignoring the tingling in his frame the energy transfer from the other had put into motion. "That was fun."

Prowl hummed in relaxing contentment into the kiss before he began to scoot down Jazz's frame, kissing along the mech's center seam as he did.

"Prowl?" Jazz questioned, soft voice matching the hesitance in his field as his frame shuddered, responding to the attention he was being shown.

Reassurance swirled back from Prowl as he continued to move lower. "I've been fantasizing about what your spike and valve are like for vorns."

The quivering continued with hints of the same submissiveness that Prowl had gotten before. There was no real resistance in Jazz's field either, just the lingering doubt that this could be pleasant or fun warring with the desire to trust someone again.

Prowl did his best to offer reassurance through his field as he worked his way down Jazz's frame, kissing and licking at teams and armor until he reached the spike cover and kissed the center of it.

The cover retracted at the first touch of his lips, then nothing as Jazz remained still on the berth, watching and feeling as Prowl's lips gently descended to kiss the spike housing. Without hesitation Prowl slid his glossa around the housing, willing to be patient in coaxing it to extend for him so long as Jazz was willing to let him try.

Disbelief flared in Jazz's field at what he thought Prowl was planning. "Are you...sure?"

Bright ice blue optics looked up and Prowl smiled. His field was rich with reassurance and deep desire when he spoke. "I want to taste you, hear and feel it as you overload in my mouth."

The field mixed deeply with his rippled with more confusion, but the mech it belonged to obeyed, spike slipping free housing to pressurize between them. Swirls of black and blue ran the white length, defining the ridges and shape.

"Beautiful," Prowl whispered before giving a kiss to the very tip, then trailing them down the underside as his lips explored every detail with tender care and honest arousal at being able to kiss and touch.

The attention brought the first flare of pleasure from the smaller mech, and a surprised moan as Jazz's visor flickered.

Prowl's hands slid along Jazz's thighs while Prowl continued his gentle exploration that ended with his lips on the tip of Jazz's spike. With a swirl of his glossa, Prowl slowly lowered his helm to take in the spike he'd dreamed about for so long.

With another moan Jazz finally relaxed, frame quivering at the warm heat surround his spike and the gentle hands stroking his plating. Prowl's mouth was warm and slick. The glossa in it active and attentive as Prowl lowered his helm until he was kissing the housing once more. He stilled, working his intake around the tip while his glossa lavished attention near the base.

"Prowl." Jazz whimpered, hips twitching as he tried to control himself. He didn't want to hurt his friend, and he certainly didn't want Prowl to stop what he was doing that was sending such wonderful waves of pleasure surging through Jazz's frame.

The mech hummed, adding vibration to the pleasurable surges, and opened a comm with his friend and lover. ::You won't hurt me. I know how to take it and make it _good_. Or I can hold you down until you overload from just my touch.::

::Not long...either way.:: Jazz managed, hips rolling into the welcoming touch as the smaller mech's hands twisted into the berth covering, a mocking attempt to ground his frame from the rapidly building charge.

::It's okay,:: Prowl reassured, humming happily as he drew upwards, his lips sliding along Jazz's shaft until he was kissing the tip again, then he slid down. His hands remained gently stroking Jazz's thighs, unconcerned that Jazz might hurt him. ::I want to make you feel good.::

The next response and only warning he got was his designation pulled from his lover as Jazz's frame arched off the berth, charge sliding over his frame and tugging at Prowl's fingertips as hot, equally charged transfluid spilled from Jazz's spike. Prowl moaned at the feel of it in his mouth, the way the charge tingled the sensors there and along his glossa.

He continued to work the spike as it shot burst after burst into his mouth and down his intake, the slick slide of it making Prowl quiver with arousal. It was only when he was sure not another drop was coming that Prowl lifted his helm, the slide of the spike past his lips until even the tip was free was slow, luxurious and every bit the show of desire that the first kiss had been.

The object of his affections lay limp on the berth, frame still working to cool itself as Jazz watched the performance and felt the arousal in Prowl's field.

He found the coordination to lift a hand, asking and inviting the other mech to join him.

Despite how hot he was running, how badly he wanted to do more, Prowl easily moved up to lie next to his lover and hold him. "I won't hurt you and I won't force you into anything," he promised soft. "It should always feel good to both of us, even when only one overloads."

"So that felt good to you?" Jazz asked, shifting so that his entire frame was against Prowl's, taking in the heat and desire of his lover and weighing it against Prowl's actions and words.

"Enjoyable," Prowl claimed a tender kiss. "Perhaps what it felt like for you to give me a wing overload."

"Nice to give because you enjoyed it." Jazz summed up instantly. And something that Jazz had been happy and willing to give because Prowl had demanded nothing of him.

"And because I care for you," Prowl added, lightly stroking Jazz's plating. "Think you have one more round in you?"

The smaller mech considered for a moment before nodding in agreement, wondering what his friend and lover had planned. He watched as Prowl slid a hand down Jazz's frame to lightly rub his valve cover. A shiver ran through his frame with a following moment of tension before he forced himself to relax and the cover slid away from gentle touch.

This was Prowl. Prowl, who had always been honest and true to him. So if Prowl said this could be good, would be good, then Jazz was willing to give him the chance to prove it.

Prowl's fingers found a slick entrance, but there was none of the heat that marked arousal. He kept his touch light, fingers brushing along the platelets as he leaned in to kiss Jazz with the hunger and passion the mech inspired in him. The limp submission that he had encountered before was gone, replaced with a tense hesitation left over from a history of abuse and not easily ignored.

Slowly Jazz fed off that that desire, that passion, field reaching out to take it as his own and slowly warming his frame and processor to the idea as gentle fingers continued to stroke at his valve.

"I will make sure you enjoy this, as long as you allow me," Prowl promised despite how badly he was shaking in need. He wouldn't last long, he knew, but he also knew he could keep going after his first spike overload. He had little doubt he'd need to this time.

Jazz nuzzled him, accepting. "Go ahead." He murmured in permission. "Not going to get any better by holding off."

With a nod Prowl shifted to brace himself above his lover and guided the tip of his spike to the slick entrance before slowly pressing forward.

Jazz's death grip on the berth lessened some with the slow, controlled slide of the spike stretching his valve. The first pleasant flare of activated sensory nodes caught his attention and actually made him focus on the sensation in his valve instead of merely dealing with it. Above him Prowl moaned deeply, his optics shuttered as he trembled in his effort to control himself when he was so close to the edge. He forced himself to still once their interface panels pressed together, grinding against Jazz lightly.

Dark hands rose from the berth to trace down Prowl's sides as Jazz field opened, more accepting of what was happening with each small motion that set off the sensors once more.

Prowl shivered and fought to retain his control as he drew back. "You feel so good," he moaned against Jazz's mouth as he slid forward just a bit harder than the first time.

"Feels so very different." Jazz was willing to admit, shivering himself at as he focused once more on what Prowl was doing, and slowing acknowledging that it felt good.

"Good," Prowl moaned, a little of his control slipping with his next thrust. "Want you to enjoy."

"I'll try." Jazz promised, though the slight moan that escaped him with the next thrust hinted that he night not have to try very hard.

It was about all Prowl could take. The next thrust was harder, driving deeper and pulling out faster as Prowl surrendered to his frame's demands. The soft sounds of pleasure continued, and soon Jazz's hips were rolling up to meet each thrust, a willing participant instead of a merely complacent recipient.

Prowl keened as the charge escaped to cascade across his plating. "Too close," he warned his lover, knowing Jazz wasn't going to overload with him and regretting it even though he had no intention of allowing Jazz not to overload before he pulled out.

Jazz grunted softly in understanding, the tickling charge from Prowl's plating dancing across his own where they met, and after a second a hand reached around to find one of the sensor wings he had been offered earlier.

That touch broke what little was left of Prowl control. He arched and roared, driving his spike as deep as it would go to deliver the hot flood of transfluid and ground his hips against Jazz's with each burst.

Wing moved beyond his reach Jazz focused on Prowl's face and field as he rode out the Praxian's overload, his entire frame shaking from the charge coming from what felt like every direction at once. He had to admit that the Praxian was beautiful in his pleasure, all the harshness gone as his thoughts halted in face of the energy running rampant.

There was a final moment of stillness, and Prowl began to move again despite two overloads in as many breems. It was different this time. Every shift was calculated to rub against different sensors inside Jazz. The rolling slide was slow and intentional, everything focused on bringing Jazz pleasure.

Jazz gasped in surprise at the first slide, visor flaring as his valve rippled and tightened around Prowl's spike. Every sensor was primed and responsive between the stimulation and the charge, and the Praxian was managing to find every one of them.

"Prowl." He whimpered, hands digging into his lover's shoulders deeply as his hips rose to meet the other's once more.

"For you," he moaned as his oversensitive spike sent jolts of near-painful pleasure through him. "Like us to overload together," he moaned again, shuddering at the sensations. "Couldn't hold out this time," he pressed his face against Jazz's neck, his entire focus on bringing his lover pleasure.

"Yes." His lover groaned in agreement, wanting what Prowl was offering now that he was finally starting to understand. Wanting that pleasure that could be a shared thing as Prowl had promised.

It didn't take long, between the charge that had leapt from Prowl before, the charged transfluid still in Jazz's valve and the sensation of a skilled lover out to bring him pleasure, Jazz was soon on the very edge. There was barely time for Jazz to warn his lover before the charge exploded in his systems, his entire frame arching off the off the berth as the powerful overload tore through, whiting out his senses momentarily to everything.

When the world began to filter back in, he felt his lover next to him, holding him and purring softly. "That is what it _should_ be like," Prowl nuzzled him affectionately.

A soft vent escaped Jazz as he found the strength to turn so that his frame was resting along Prowl's, field reaching out to rejoin with the other's. For the first time since he had arrived the smaller mech's field was fully relaxed and accepting, at ease in the comforting arms of his friend, and his lover.

"Thank you." He murmured, meaning the words on so many different levels as his lips moved to meet Prowl's in a gentle kiss.

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The soft sounds of rich, upbeat but spark-tugging music drifted into the air outside the small music club as Prowl and Jazz transformed.

"I thought you might enjoy this instead of facing my family again so soon," Prowl offered his hand.

The smaller mech took the offered hand, squeezing it lightly and offering his friend a sincere smile. "Yes. Thank you." His field reached out to brush against Prowl's again, full of affection as they walked inside and found a small table to sit at.

"This is one of my favorite places to relax and let my processors work without active direction," Prowl said as he pulled up the small holo-menu on the table. "There isn't anything not worth having."

"A high compliment indeed, coming from you." Jazz teased as he looked over the menu, taking his time to peruse the entire selection before tapping his finger over one dish in particular. "This sounds amazing."

"It is good," Prowl agreed with an easy smile. "It's on the sweet side, like you enjoy." He pinged their order into the system and turned the menu off. "I hope my creators didn't scare you too badly."

Jazz shook his helm quickly, picking up the small decoration on the table and fiddling with it. "No, they did not. But...I am curious as to exactly what your carrier meant when she said 'charge'."

To Jazz, being someone's charge wasn't something that Jazz had the best experience with.

"It means you are going to be treated as one of their creations until you are in your adult frame," Prowl said simply. "You are entitled to live in our home, drink our energon and make use of our property as if you are one of us. We will pay for standard upgrades of our quality and your maintenance needs. We will pay for an education in a single trade-craft if you do not go into the family business. You will have a small allowance, likely a couple hundred credits a decaorn, to do with as you please. Anything you buy or earn is yours to keep," he ran down the basics, trying to think of exactly what they were and how they might differ from what Jazz knew.

Across from his Jazz listened attentively, considering for a bit after Prowl finished, before asking his next question. "And what is expected of me in return?"

"That you comply with their rules, like the rest of us," Prowl answered before realizing that Jazz might not have any grasp of what it meant. He pulled up an old file that he hadn't accessed since he was a young sparkling, the addendum from when he got his mechling upgrades and pinged it to Jazz. "The addition I'm putting on there is that you don't bring a lover to the house. If you want to fool around, it's your right to. Just not where I live, please."

It didn't take all of Jazz's social talent to pick up that Prowl didn't want him to fool around at all but didn't feel it was his right to make that claim. He chuckled softly, tucking the file away to look over in depth later as he reached out to take Prowl's hand in his own. "I would never do that to you." He promised.

The relief and thanks in Prowl's field spoke louder than any words could. They were still in that pose, relaxing in the contentment and the wonderfully complex music when their meals arrived. Prowl's came in a simple cube of heavily mineralized energon. Jazz's was a selection of solids cut into bite sized pieces and skewered, encrusted, and fired to bond the seasoning to the pieces.

After making his way through the first several skewers and clearly enjoying each one Jazz lifted a whole one and offered the end to Prowl. "So after today...are we going to have to start locking the door to your quarters when we are there?"

"It barely slows him down," Prowl huffed even as he took the end piece from the skewer and popped it in his mouth with a smile for his new lover. "But yes, we should. He's entirely too curious for his own good."

Jazz's helm tipped slightly to one side. "Do I want to know what he supposedly did not want to discover?"

Prowl snorted. "Don't let his innocent look fool you. He experiments more than I do. He just saw me tied down while my lover at the time rode my spike." Despite the easy words, remembering Prism still hurt a little.

Jazz did not miss the emotion in his friend, subtle as it was, and his own field rippled uneasily.

"It was over with Prism shortly before we met," Prowl said quietly before focusing on his energon. "We were talking of bonding, of how it would work with our families and eventual creations being heirs to both. Then he told me that he'd fallen in love and was going to bond with someone else. I didn't see it coming at all."

"How-?" Jazz started, but was unable to get the rest of the question out. How could Prowl, who seemed to be able to predict almost anything, not see it coming? How could anyone do that to Prowl, who was as devoted as anyone he knew to those he cared for? Instead his field expanded, weaving with Prowl's and full of the warmth and acceptance their entire friendship had been built on.

Prowl's field replied with grateful acceptance and thanks as he shuttered his optics briefly. "I didn't _want_ to see it for what it was," he admitted very quietly. "Willful blindness. Looking back I can tell what I turned a blind optic to, because I didn't want to have it end and face building _another_ romance. He was nice to me, right to the end. He'd probably still be a friend if it hadn't hurt so much. I suspect I did not take it gracefully."

Jazz reached out, catching Prowl's hand and adding a physical element to the comfort being offered. "You're strong. You moved on."

"Mostly," Prowl accepted the touch and squeezed Jazz's hand gently. "Everyone's thought when I spent that first evening with you was I was just on a rebound fling. I'm glad it took us so long. I wasn't ready to try again."

"Well, considering the fact that I wasn't ready to try at all, it was a good thing for both of us." Jazz pointed out gently, food forgotten as he focused on the mech that had been his friend first and foremost.

"Yes, it was," Prowl smiled at him and relaxed as the painful memories were stored away once more. "It is always best to build a friendship first. I believe we had a good friendship first."

"Have." Jazz countered, slightly worried at the phrasing. "And...maybe more."

Prowl's wings twitched. "My apologies. Yes, we _have_ a good friendship. I assumed we were more than friends now, with all we did today."

"Well, it's definitely a start." Jazz chuckled as the tension drained away. "Your creators will not be displeased with the idea, I assume. After the questions your carrier was asking."

"Their only objection was to your family ties. With those so publicly and formally broken, they're pleased I'm with someone who makes me happy," Prowl smiled, lifting Jazz's hand to his lips. "It is important you choose that trade-craft well. While I can easily afford to put you up in an apartment once you are an adult, it would be better if you can remain with me in the house. I do not want you as a paramour or concubine. I want you as an equal."

The expression of distaste that crossed Jazz's face at the idea of the former two was a clear indication of his opinion the options as well, something that brought real relief to Prowl. "I will think it, so that you won't have to make that choice." He promised.

"Thank you," Prowl gave his knuckles another kiss before letting go. "If it will help to bounce ideas off me, I'm more than willing. I know Praxus' market well."

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After a metacycle and six orns, Prowl felt comfortable enough with Jazz's agreeable enthusiasm to push a little past the very basic form they'd been using in the berth. He'd used the washrack to get his lover nice and hot, continued the kisses and touching as he got Jazz to kneel on their berth while Prowl stood.

"Willing to try something a little different?" Prowl purred against his lover's throat.

"Only with you." Jazz answered, quivering at the tone of his lover and the light feel of touch on his throat. A flare of eager curiosity rose in his field, evidence of the trust that Prowl had earned.

"Then on your hands and knees," Prowl shivered in anticipation and at having earned the trust needed for this. "Both panels open."

Curiosity met his request but no reservations as Jazz turned obediently, bracing hands and knees firmly on the berth as both panels slid away, baring spike and valve to his lover. He shivered into a moan at the sensation of Prowl's glossa sliding across the sensitive platelets around his valve entrance, testing for readiness

Prowl didn't how pleased he was to find it ready, dripping and quivering in anticipation of the pleasure that Jazz had come to know even in the short time he had been with Prowl. He had come a very long way from the hesitant, fearful mechling whose desire Prowl had questioned. It made the slide of his spike into that valve all the more pleasurable. The squeeze and slick heat something he had often taken for granted with his lovers was a mark of accomplishment with this one.

He brought a hand forward to tease Jazz's spike housing, trying to draw the length out.

Jazz moaned softly, purring in pleasure as his spike slid free and into the searching touch. The duel stimulation made him shudder in rapidly building pleasure.

"Your pleasure feels so good," Prowl moaned as he leaned forward. His hips rolling in a steady rhythm his hand moved in a counter-rhythm to, Prowl used his free hand to tip Jazz's helm back so he could suck and lick one of those wonderfully sensitive sensor horns.

"Prowl." His lover's pleasure uttered as a cry as Jazz quickly gave up trying to figure out which pleasure was coming from where and just accepted the waves of sensations rolling through his frame.

The sensation to his sensory horns was usually enough to melt him into a puddle. Prowl's attention to his spike or valve was something that he had learned to enjoy very much. All three together was almost more than he could process.

"Yes," Prowl moaned deeply around the sensor horn as his frame worked Jazz's, their fields fully meshed to share the bliss Jazz had come to accept and understand was part of any time Prowl touched him with arousal. It hadn't washed away the vorns of abuse he'd suffered, but it had created a very firm exception in his processors under the designation of Prowl. "So good."

Attention and desire focused on him, on his pleasure was enough to push Jazz to the edge and beyond far faster than normal. Charge rippled over him in waves, fueled by the duel overload that gripped his frame, valve clamping down around the thick spike stretching it as his spike jerked in Prowl's grasp and spilled thick, charge-heavy transfluid on Prowl's fingers and the berth under them.

A shudder and moan came from Prowl as he began to drive his hips into the intense pleasure of an overloading valve. After only a few more thrusts his back arched, throwing his helm up and back with a reverberating roar and driving his spike in deep to pump his transfluid deep inside, rushing against the thick cluster of nodes at the very top of the valve.

Bliss echoed through meshed fields as the electricity dancing between their frames just seemed to prolong the pleasure, waves crashing through both mecha.

The charge left Jazz's frame trembling as he struggled to lock his joints against collapsing as it faded, but also had him groaning softly from the smaller charges still tickling at his frame. He gave no resistance as his lover guided him to his side and pulled him close.

"Glad you enjoyed," Prowl murmured, stroking Jazz's plating softly as they both calmed down.

"Very much so." Jazz answered just as softly as he snuggled closer to his lover, nuzzling at Prowl's neck and shoulder. He was quiet, field growing still as it often did when he was thinking. Finally he raised his helm and asked. "Still think you want me around long term?"

"Yes," Prowl said with the calm certainty that was so typical of him once he made a choice.

"Been thinking, looking. If I have the choice to do whatever I want," And his tone revealed just how novel of an idea that still was, "I figure I might we well do something I'll like. I may not be much of a hit here in Praxus, but I think I'd to be a musician. A singer."

A flicker of surprise passed through Prowl's field. "A singer," he repeated, almost tasting the term out. "Will you listen to advice from those who know the field well?"

"Best way to learn how to do it right." And if Jazz was going to take the time to learn to do something, he was going to learn to do it right.

"Good," Prowl nuzzled him into a tender kiss. "I will arrange for a good, honest review of your ability and current standard. Someone who will tell us the blunt truth, not placate us because we can pay well."

Thanks rippled through their joined fields as Jazz settled into the kiss more.

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The music faded and Jazz focused his attention on his small audience. He had been a little surprised when Prowl told him that the Praxian wanted his lover to perform for a team of professionals that he knew, but Jazz had gone along willingly.

Now he waited for their evaluation of his skill.

Passacaglia, the dancer and far more socially warm of the pair, motioned him to join them at the small table. It was Prowl's pleased smile, small and subtle as it was, that kept Jazz's attention when he moved down to comply. If his lover was pleased it must be reasonably good news.

"How much formal training have you had?" Rubato demanded stuffily when Jazz sat down next to Prowl and accepted the cube of quality low grade.

"None." Jazz admitted, sipping at the cube and loosening the hold on his field enough so that it brushed against Prowl's. "I wasn't allowed before I came here."

"It shows," the professional singer told him. "For an untrained voice, you have an acceptable range and ability to remain on tune. You are very much lacking in basics. I would recommend attending the Performers' Guild school before attempting any more specific training."

"No dance or performance training either?" Passacaglia smiled at him.

"A little dance. I was commandeered to help with a cousin's dance lessons once, but they were all traditional formal ones." Jazz answered, not all surprised by the recommendation that he attend the school and pleased that they thought he was worth that much already.

The dancer nodded. "You would do well to attend the classes that the school offers before attempting to get a tutor. You have a natural sense of balance and flare that is suited to the more popular modern forms that I specialize in. You have a long way to go to be a _good_ performer, but I would say that you have enough potential that the guild school and further training in specific forms are worth the investment."

"Thank you." Jazz nodded, indicating that he understood what he was saying. It looked as though he would have to look into the guild school, and then speak with Prowl about the best way of presenting it to Prowl's creators, if they considered this a worthy trade-craft.

"If you survive the seven vorns the guild school demands and still love to perform, I know a few mecha who can polish your performance skills," Passacaglia offered. "You may love to do this as a hobby, or for fun. That does not always mean it is a good function. The joors are long, the pay nothing like you could make as your lover's apprentice. If it's in your spark though, it's worth it. You'll still love it, even when it's hard."

"A chance I'm willing to take." Jazz answered.

"Then I wish you luck," Passacaglia said as he stood, followed by Rubato. "Study hard. Put in the joors of practice you need. It's the best advice I can give you."

"Thank you for coming," Prowl inclined his helm as he stood to leave with them, though he remained outside the club entrance with Jazz as the performers drove away. "That went quite well."

Jazz nodded, still thinking over everything that had told them. "I want to try." He told Prowl, tone almost pleading.

"If the school accepts your application, it is a trade," Prowl was less enthusiastic. "They will accept it. Though do not be surprised if they are much more harsh about the realities of a low income and how difficult it is to make it."

Jazz stopped in his tracks and looked at his lover, not missing the shift in the Praxian's tone. "They might accept it. Will everyone else? Will you?"

Because there was a harsh reality to the entire scenario. He had already been looking before Prowl had brought in the professionals. Everything they said was true. The seven vorns would require much of Jazz's attention, time and energy. All of which until now had been centered on Prowl since his arrival. And even when he completed that, there was still the chance that Jazz might fail, or at least fail to make it big enough to support himself and contribute to the house.

Prowl drew him close and pressed a light kiss to his forehelm. "Yes. Entertainment is a respected function. If this is what you truly want, I will support you in it."

"It'll take time. But I do." It was one of the very few things Jazz had ever wanted for himself, and was one that was so very close to being in his grasp. He wrapped his arms around his lover, holding him close. "And if I don't make it...I can always go into the trade business. So long as Smokescreen doesn't object."

"By then he'll know you well enough to like you," Prowl murmured, then a small quirk of his lips graced his features. "Sire will be pleased you've chosen such a time consuming school and profession. He's been most annoyed with how much time I've spent away from the office lately."

"I guess that is one way of getting his approval for it." Jazz replied, even though he had no desire to cause trouble.

"He'll approve of it because he agreed to," Prowl chuckled. "It is up to you to make the most of what he agreed to. If you are willing to put the work in, you'll have the backing to make it."

"Then I will have to work long and hard." Jazz said with a kiss. "But I will find time for you." He promised.

"And I for you," he returned the promise with a kiss of his own. "How much have you looked into the guild school?"

"Enough to know that everything they warned me of is true, between the joors and the demands that will be placed on me. I know that it is not cheap either." Jazz answered.

"It is not the most expensive or exclusive either," Prowl tapped his nose playfully before they began to walk towards the nearest public garden, arm in arm with his lover. "Even if it is one of the longer ones. I do not expect that to be an issue."

"It won't be." Jazz promised, stretching up to kiss the side of Prowl's helm, delight and hope bright in his field at the promise of the future and the mech at his side.


	2. A Snake in a Cage

**From the Shadows 01: A Snake in a Cage**  
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"You know this is an extraordinarily bad idea, do you not creators?" Prowl asked as he walked by his carrier's side, his younger brother on the far side of their sire. "He will want to rescue them all."

"Just like when he goes to the zoo," Starbright smiled up at her too-serious creation.

Not yet in his final frame, Prowl was already running much of the legal and financial aspects of their business ventures. He'd created the exponential success that allowed them to indulge both their creations' every whim, or nearly so. Prowl wanted better upgrades, tactical software and hardware of military grade and better. He liked only a few physical things, but those items he wished to possess were always of exquisite quality. He asked for things rarely, and only when they could be afforded, but it was never a small investment.

His younger brother, only a dozen vorns into his mechling upgrade, was nearly Prowl's polar opposite in every way. Friendly, chatty, endlessly social and with a wandering optic that tended to run to rescuing creatures of every shape, size and temperament from all sorts of situations ... real and imagined.

"Only far worse," Prowl huffed. "The conditions even in the better of these freak shows is deplorable."

"There it is!" Bluestreak squealed in excitement as they came in sight of the entrance.

In the back of the main show area, the prize attraction of the freak show stirred in his cage. Chains rattled as his frame shifted, coils of metal sliding over each other.

A sharp metal prod was unceremoniously jammed between two scales, getting a loud hiss from the captive. Green-flecked yellow optics glared into indifferent red as the freak show's owner, Idarassi's captor, grabbed the chain connected to the serpent-mech's collar and pulled.

"Get out here, you," Backslide grunted. "It's showtime."

Another hiss echoed through the cage. Reluctantly, Idarassi flowed out, trying to avoid the electroprod, resisting every inch of the way.

Outside a crowd had gathered, awaiting entry into the show area. A group of younger mecha were enthusiastically, and loudly, chattering about what they'd heard this particular show included. What had them most excited was some kind of serpent or half-mech. This group was tall, lightly built and with long, intricately designed wings. For a moment Idarassi thought they were in Vos, but the frames weren't Seeker. Not quite.

Without his comm and remote data access systems it was difficult to figure out where he was anymore, but as he glared, hissed and studied the crowd, he was beginning to think this was Praxus, the city of the grounded Seekers.

Among the shocked looks, the youths and adults scrambling away from him, there were two in the middle that captured his immediate attention. One storm grays with a brilliant red and gold chevron and ice blue optics looked at him without any apparent reaction. Steady, unphased, curious without judgment. The other was silver and black with the brilliant red chevron, only with a silver center. He looked at Idarassi with huge, over-bright blue optics, but there was no fear on his face. Only wonder and ... attraction?

Metal coils shifted as Idarassi reared back almost to the ceiling, trying to pull the chains out of his handlers' hands. Under other circumstances he would have tried to swat them out of the way, but he was well aware of the slave coding they'd had installed in him and knew he would never manage to connect. One of the handlers squawked as he was jerked off his pedes. Then the ringmaster stepped in, using the cover of Idarassi's coils to jam the electroprod between two scales, and the serpent-mech almost collapsed, hissing in pain and helpless anger.

Subsiding, Idarassi settled into a pile of coils and refused to budge, watching the crowd watch him. It took him a moment to notice a look that wasn't the usual shock and faint revulsion. Turning his helm, absently brushing a few strands of matted, dulled synthetic fiber out of his face, he met that bright blue gaze. Shock, hurt, pity and then ... anger? flashed across youthful features as the silver and gray mechling turned to the adults standing next to him and began speaking.

The older youth, the one colored as a dark storm, joined in the conversation quietly as he pulled a datapad from his subspace. After several exchanges sad blue optics turned back on Idarassi with a resolute expression around them. The others in his group focused on the ringmaster and owner of the show, all three turning calculating optics on the mech.

Idarassi just stayed where he was and watched. He knew what he looked like... Battered scales showing rust all along the edges, filth and grime and debris wedged into sensitive places, old scars showing through here and there and his paint job chipped and flaking. It had never bothered anyone else before, so he couldn't quite understand why these mecha were looking at him that way.

Noting the gaze being turned on him, Backslide shifted slightly. He'd made sure no one could see the electroprod and had hidden it before coming out from behind the half-snake's frame. Steeling himself, he stepped forward, spreading his hands. "Welcome to the show."

"It seems it has already begun," the storm colored mechling spoke. His voice held a deep rumbling roll that matched his colors, as did the dispassionate tone. Despite that, despite not knowing the wing-language, cold disapproval radiated from him strongly enough that those near him shifted uneasily. "That is an impressive beast."

"Caught it out in the Badlands. Never seen anything like it before. Not easy to control, either." Backslide eyed the speaker warily. He had been in this business a long time, and never had anyone reacted like this.

"Can he talk?" the silver and black mechling asked, stressing the mech-status of the term.

"No," Backslide answered firmly.

Behind the ringmaster, Idarassi nodded his own answer. He pointed to his throat, then mimed something being cut, indicating that his vocalizer had been disabled, rendering him mute.

The younger one's anger flared brightly, but the youth speaking merely met Idarassi's optics briefly.

The crowd parted quickly as the storm colored mech stepped forward. Even one young noble seemed willing to step aside to let him pass. Without any show of fear, or clue that he didn't have the right to do so, Prowl stepped into the ring.

Backslide noted the look, turning to glower at his prize attraction. He met the usual sullen glare, Idarassi's forked glossa flicking out and then back in. The half-serpent only glared at him, giving nothing away.

Sensing movement, the ringmaster reached out to stop the Praxian from getting too close. "I wouldn't advise getting too close to it. It's still a wild animal and can be dangerous."

While he did not physically resist the instruction, Prowl did not heed it either. "I am well aware of how to handle wild creatures," he said simply as he stepped around the stopping hand. "I also have handled enough slaves to recognize the coding when I see it in action. He'll drop into stasis before he could hurt me and we both know it."

Yellow optics narrowed warily as the storm gray mech approached. Idarassi sidled away suspiciously, as far as the restraining chains would allow. A deep, threatening hiss escaped even as he backed up, pulling his coils into a tighter ball.

"See?" Backslide insisted. "Dangerous!"

The rest of the crowd had gone silent, waiting to see what would happen. All optics were fixed on the half-serpent as he reached the limits of his chains and was forced to stop, curled into as tight a ball as he could manage.

"Badly abused, untended, afraid, defensive," Prowl corrected as he stepped closer so Idarassi could feel the calm neutrality of his field. "I very much doubt he's dangerous unless seriously provoked." He pulled an energon wafer from a small subspace pocket and held it up, offering the sweetened treat.

The long, scaled body twitched, scales rippling along his length in clear nervousness. He was still watching the Praxian warily, but that energon wafer had his full attention. It had been a very, very long time since he'd even seen one. Here in the freak show he got the most basic grade of energon, often full of grit and just enough to keep him fueled, with barely any reserves. Slowly, cautiously, he eased nearer, lifting one hand to take the offered wafer.

He felt a flicker of approval from the storm colored mech, though Prowl's features gave away nothing. "He's quite tame, so long as one knows how to behave. Something, perhaps, that you never learned," he focused on the ringleader with ice blue optics.

The treat was gone in an optic-blink, Idarassi licking the last hints of energon from his claws. He regarded the Praxian for a moment, sidling closer, forked glossa flicking out to pick up the strange mech's scent.

"It's an animal, to be trained to obey," Backslide informed him flatly. "Not a mech to be worked with." That got him a particularly rude gesture and hiss from Idarassi, the half-serpent shifting and almost pulling one of his handlers right off his pedes.

"Perhaps, but he is an entity my House will buy from you, for a fair price," Prowl said calmly.

"Not for sale," was the immediate response. Backslide glowered. The creature was the star of the show, what drew large crowds and brought him a large profit. He was loathe to part with the creature despite how difficult handling it could be.

Idarassi's long body shifted sideways, sending one of the handlers skidding. The chain went slack. Rearing back, the serpent mech pulled himself into a ball, waiting to see what would happen next. Yellow optics glared at the ringmaster.

"Then we will pay his fee to the city after they have completed the tests for sentience on all your creatures," Prowl said smoothly. "I doubt it will take more than a hundred vorns. Assuming you are telling the truth, you will be free to leave with them all," he pulled out another wafer and offered it to Idarassi as he continued to speak. "Of course, if I am correct and you captured a fully sentient and sparked free mecha and bound him into slavery without proper documentation or compensation, you will be a guest of the city for much, much longer. Praxus takes a very dim view of unlawful slavery, as I am sure you are aware."

Clawed fingers delicately took the wafer from Prowl's fingers, and it disappeared as quickly as the first had. The handler tried to get close enough to grab the chain again, but a loud hiss sent him scuttling out of the ring entirely.

The ringmaster stiffened. He knew very well that the serpent-mech was fully sentient, had made sure his vocalizer and comms were deactivated in order to hide that. Despite his reluctance to part with the creature, he disliked the thought of imprisonment for illegal slavery even more. "It isn't cheap."

"Neither is a felony record," Prowl countered, well aware of the monetary status of who he was dealing with. "I'll pay you five hundred credits for his ownership codes."

Backslide glowered at him. "That's insulting. It's worth more than _that_."

"It may be a unique specimen, or it may not be. You have no proof either way. We will have to invest many times that just to bring him up to legal standards for us to own," Prowl countered.

"Never have I or anyone else I've ever met seen anything like him before," the ringmaster shot back. "That's what makes him such a draw for the crowds. Fifteen hundred."

Internally Prowl was very pleased. His family regularly spent that much on crystal flowers for the formal family meal each metacycle. This mech had no concept what the serpent-mech was really worth, much less how much Prowl was authorized to spend to acquire him. He allowed his field to touch the serpent's once more, calm reassurance flowing in it.

"It's undernourished, ill-kept, likely with health issues, untrained and difficult to handle. Seven hundred and fifty," Prowl raised his price, hiding his pleasure at the numbers from everyone. His ability to show nothing, feel nothing, when he chose was his greatest asset in business dealings.

Green-flecked optics went from one to the other, Ida's coils tightening slightly. He only looked away when one of the itches plaguing him became too much to ignore, and he turned to dig his claws under his scales in an attempt to ease the discomfort. The appearance of a small glitch-mouse from under his scales got a disgusted hiss and a full-frame shudder from him before he resettled, audial panels twitching.

"Completely unique and larger than most mecha," Backslide retorted. "Thirteen fifty."

"Infested with vermin," Prowl allowed his features and wings to show his disgust and his growing anger even as he shot a look at his younger brother to hold still. The desperation in Bluestreak's wings made Prowl give up the game early, even though he knew he could get the price down a couple hundred credits more. Not even he was immune to his brother's unconsciously used gift. "Eleven hundred, and include his cage."

"Done," the show owner announced after a moment, scowling at the half-serpent, who only glared back. Growling, Backslide gestured sharply to the other handlers, ignoring the loose chain. The promptly began pulling the half-serpent out of the ring, back to where the cages were. He turned to the crowd. "It seems this show is over. Please look around at the other attractions."

With that he faced Prowl. "I'll see your credits before I give you the codes."

"Of course," Prowl canted his wings respectfully, an emotion is did not feel in the least and followed the owner out. "Does the code force him to obey simple commands as well?"

"The code is more to keep him from mauling anyone," the ringmaster growled back. "Those coils are incredibly strong. Just capturing him in the first place cost a half dozen of my best trappers."

Getting Idarassi into his cage usually wasn't an easy task. This time, however, he flowed in with little of his usual resistance, coiling up tightly in the confined space. His unusual compliance didn't stop the handlers from using their electroprods on him just out of sheer spite, chaining him a lot shorter than usual, leaving him barely enough leeway to move. A long, low hiss answered their jeering, clawed fingers curling around the cage bars.

Prowl glanced at Idarassi as they passed by on the way to the owner's trailer home. "I understand. A hauler will arrive within the joor to move him."

The cage rattled as Idarassi threw his weight from side to side as much as he could, sending the handlers scrambling back. He might have slave code preventing him from actually harming anyone, but he was still a large, powerful creature, and no one wanted to get too close. Once they and their electroprods were well away, the half-serpent settled down as comfortably as his restraints would allow. Yellow optics tracked Prowl and Backslide as they passed the other cages and headed for the trailers.

Backslide grunted as he coded open the trailer door, walking inside. It was cramped and cluttered, though some attempt at keeping things straight had been made. Muttering to himself, the show owner dug out a datapad to record the sale, retrieving the chip that contained the owner codes for the half-snake.

As he did so Prowl withdrew a credit stick, transferred the eleven hundred credits to it from his primary one and handed it over. "If you wish to check that it is good, I will not be offended."

Refraining from making a comment that would probably come out rude, Backslide ran the check. It was something he did as a habit anyway, not wanting to be ripped off. That had happened to him before, and it had been a bitter sting for a long time. Once the credits came up clean, the show owner grunted again, then handed the chip to Prowl. "These are the ownership codes," he told the Praxian, the surliness in his voice audible even to himself. "He's all yours."

Prowl canted his wings in farewell and walked out. He was not the least bit surprised to see his brother standing at the cage feeding their new pet/slave energon wafers, their creators standing a couple paces back and simply watching indulgently. He walked up to his sire and spoke softly. "Eleven hundred credits, with the cage."

He paused as the surprise passed through the older mech. "Perhaps we can try to keep Bluestreak occupied with his new project and not wandering the show? I intend to see what I can see for Streetwise and Barricade."

Darksky canted his wings in agreement and watched his eldest go off to collect evidence before returning his attention to his youngest and the strange creature they would be rehabilitating this vorn.

The chains prevented Idarassi from moving very far, though he was able to shift his upper frame closer to the bars. Green-flecked optics took in the young Praxian curiously, forked glossa flickering out to sample the air, trying to catch a scent. Though the overlying reek of the backstage area it wasn't easy. Clawed fingers delicately accepted each wafer, which then vanished with a speed that indicated just how hungry the half-serpent was. After a long moment, one hand came up to point at the Praxian, Idarassi making a curious sound as best he could.

"I'm Bluestreak," the youth chirped happily, his smile glowing as brightly as his optics and the pleasure in his field. "I knew you were smart. My brother is Prowl, he's the one that did all the talking. Those are our creators," he motioned with a hand holding a wafer to the adults standing just a bit back, but without fear for themselves or their mechling creation. "Starbright's our carrier, and Darksky our sire. We'll get you talking in no time. The transport should be here any breem now. I'm sorry you can't come right to the house, but carrier insists that everything I bring home gets a full medical and de-infestation before it can come onto the property. Our vet is really nice, and he'll be honest with us. Try to be nice to him, okay? He really does just want to make you feel better, even if the poking, injections and baths aren't fun. It really is so you'll be healthy enough to recharge in a real berth. Though we'll have to order one built for you. I think you'd be too heavy for anything we have in a guest room."

Idarassi mouthed the name, frustration crossing his face at his inability to talk. At the mention of a bath, utter relief replaced the frustration. Clearly he had been denied one for quite some time, probably longer than he'd actually been a captive. Nodding to show that he understood and would cooperate if it meant getting clean and out of the cage, his optics tracked on the wafer in Bluestreak's hand.

"Oh, I'm sorry," the mechling quickly offered the wafer. "You must really be hungry. I mean, I love these but I can't eat nearly this many in a row without getting dizzy. So you're Iderass? I'm sorry, I probably mangled your designation, but you can tell me when the vet is done repairing you. I'm Bluestreak," he offered another wafer.

The serpent mech blinked, then extended one claw to scratch a series of glyphs into the floor in front of the cage: 'Call me Ida. Easier to pronounce.' Writing upside-down presented a minor problem, but he managed.

"Ida," Bluestreak nodded as a young worker, one of the creations of the crew, came up to Starbright with four cubes of good energon.

She thanked him and gave him a full energon credit chip after her mate took possession of two of the cubes and she took the other. The youngling gave Idarassi a wary look and ran off to some other chore. The wary look was returned with a neutral stare, Idarassi's optics following the youth as he left.

The scent of energon drew his attention back to the femme, glossa flicking out to catch more of it. With a gentle smile she walked up to the cage bars and offered one of the cubes to Idarassi. "I understand you are very, very hungry," her voice was low, soft, gentle and full of welcoming warmth and the softly voiced promise of a powerful matriarch that rarely found need to yell to have her way. "Do try not to gulp it. It will not be taken away, and you will not be hungry in our charge. Manners will be important if you are to remain in our home for long."

Giving Starbright a look of gratitude, the half-serpent accepted the cube, maneuvering it through the bars into the cage. Despite his hunger, he drank the liquid energy slowly. Considering how long he'd been existing on the barest amount of fuel, his systems were not used to this much or anything of this grade, and not taking it slow would result in him being very sick.

"Good, Ida," she said his shortened designation with all the care she would any visitor to her home. "We will have a good, long talk once you have your voice back, full tanks and no pests. Do cooperate with the haulers," she motioned to a large truck-mech in alt mode that was carefully driving up. "The vet and his staff. It will be worth the trouble."

The big mech nodded to her, indicating that he would cooperate. Settling as best he could with the chains still holding him down, he continued to sip at the energon, claws firmly hooked around the cube.

"Can I go with him, please carrier?" Bluestreak turned pleading optics on her. "Please? I can help keep him calm and explain things. I know how to help with bathing and giving shots too, and feeding."

She laughed lightly, her voice and smile bright and honestly amused. "Yes, dear. Go with him. I expect you home before your recharge time, whether or not the vet is finished with Ida."

"Yes, carrier," Bluestreak promised, accepting the cube of energon from his carrier. He turned to Idarassi and reached through the bars to pat a serpentine coil while his creators spoke to the transporter, then went off to find their elder creation. Scales shifted slightly at the pat, caught between pressing into the touch and pulling away from it. It had been a long time since anyone had touched Idarassi without the intent to cause damage. Adjusting would take a while.

Idarassi held still while the cage was loaded, not wanting to shift and throw off the weight distribution. Once the cage was in place and locked down for transport, he shifted to lean against his own coils, eager to be away from the freak show that had held him prisoner for far too long. Bluestreak settled in the cab for the drive, nearly a joor long, to the outlaying areas of Praxus where there was open land. Though the young mechling was no longer talking to him, Idarassi could hear him talking. It seemed an almost compulsive response to silence, but it was a nice voice that talked of nice, if random, things.

The freak show had moved him in a covered, enclosed hauler, leaving him unable to see the scenery outside. Idarassi shifted in his cage, taking in all there was to see and tasting the scents the winds brought him. It was almost a sensory overload, with the wind over and under his scales and the sheer amount of scents carried on the breeze.

The cage was unloaded in the central yard of a sprawling U shaped building and the hauler left, leaving his cargo and passenger behind.

"Hi Doc," Bluestreak waved a welcoming greeting to the mid-sized general frame painted red and white. "Can we get the chains off him now? He promised he'd cooperate, and we're sure he's sentient."

"Yes, your creators pinged me with all the details," Fix-it smiled at his frequent and favored customer, then focused on the serpent mech. "So you are Ida?"

In the central yard of the vet clinic, it was the sound of a strange voice that brought the serpent-mech's attention back from investigating his surroundings. He blinked at the newcomer, taking in the vivid red markings, then nodded in answer to the question. One claw picked absently at the collar secured around his neck, the chain attached to it rattling.

"Yes, we will get the chains off you," Fit-it promised. "Do you have the keys?" he glanced at Bluestreak.

"Umm, no..." he looked sheepish.

"Not a problem," the vet looked back at Idarassi. "We'll need to cut them off then. Are they rigged with anything dangerous to you?"

Idarassi shook his helm. As far as he knew they were just ordinary chains. His captors had used brute force and electroprods to control him rather than a shock-collar or anything similar.

"That makes it much simpler then. "Now, Ida, this does mean we'll have to use cutters very close to your person. I can put you in stasis for the duration, if you prefer."

The expression on Idarassi's face clearly said he was not thrilled about the prospect of being put in stasis. Huffing softly, he shifted as much as he could to provide easy access to all of the places where the chains attached, then held very still, not even twitching an audial panel.

"All right," Fix-it nodded, signaling a couple of his assistants to come out. They brought cutting tools, both saws and torches, with them and handed a torch to Fixit. "We'll be careful," he promised as he lit his torch and went to work on the collar.

Idarassi held perfectly still, yellow optics watching everything that was going on. There was barely even a flinch at the heat against his throat cables. He just wanted those chains off. True to his word, it didn't take them long to remove the chains and cut the door lock open.

All three medics backed away.

"If you would come out, Ida," Fix-it requested. "We can begin with the bath, if you'd like."

Air hissed through Idarassi's vents in a clear sign of relief once the chains were off. Twitching his audial panels, he eased out of the cage, visibly perking up at the mention of a bath. Out of the cage and no longer coiled into a ball, it was clear just how big he was, and just how bad a condition he was in. Flakes of paint and rust drifted off his frame, and he was leaving a trail of grime flaking out from under his metal scales. Clearly a bath was desperately needed.

"Oh Primus," one of the techs whispered in horrified shock. "How could _anyone_ allow a pet to get in such condition?"

"It was the freak show," Bluestreak piped up. "You'll probably see a lot more of their exhibits soon. It was bad."

"Right," Fix-it gathered himself. "Come, Ida. We have a pool large enough for you and all the help we'll accept. It's usually used for bathing multiple mounts at a time. We understand if you don't want anyone to help, but it would go much faster and deeper if you can accept the help."

The half-serpent nodded, gesturing for Fix-it to lead the way, gliding after him. Every now and then he had to pause and scratch at an itch, hooking a claw under the edge of a scale to get at whatever was causing the itch. Once he spotted the pool, it was impossible to even try to keep him away from it. Submerging as completely as he could, he puffed out his scales to allow access to the metal mesh underneath, where the worst of the grime was caked.

His entire frame released the pleasured groan as the cleansing liquid flowed and flooded into parts of him that hadn't felt cleanser in far, far too long.

Bluestreak was the first to him, with brushes in hand. He gave Idarassi one and a bottle of cleanser before going to work himself.

"You're going to feel so much better when you're clean, free of rust and with fresh paint," the youth began to chatter about whatever came to his processors. His field was happy though as he stood in the chest deep cleanser and put himself to work.

The half-serpent smiled at him, then went to work on his upper half, picking at the matted tangles in his synth-fiber mane. Clotted dirt reluctantly came loose, revealing black and bright blue. He scrubbed hard at his torso, trying to get the rust off the edges of his plating.

The amount of grime built up under his scales was starting to turn the cleaner black, sludge building up on the bottom of the pool. A couple more glitch-mice swam out from under his scales, trying to climb out of the pool. Fortunately there didn't seem to be any other parasites or hitch-hikers lurking on his frame, just signs of neglect and ill treatment.

A tech helped the mice to dry land before returning to scrubbing. Jets in the pool turned on, creating a gentle but steady flow of new cleanser to replace the old, and to pull away the grime that had come up. Three breems in an additional two techs came out to help, making it six mechs working on the snake body and Idarassi working on his mech frame.

"Scrub your back?" Bluestreak offered.

Bubbles streamed from submerged air vents as Idarassi let out a soundless moan of bliss at the feel of the jets against his frame. Audial panels shifting at Bluestreak's question, the half-serpent nodded and shifted to give the Praxian access to his back.

More and more of the grime peeled away, giving the techs a better look at his serpent half. Under his scales was a layer of metal mesh, almost like chainmail, to which the scales were attached. Cables and sensor wires threaded up into the scales through the mesh. It was the mesh that allowed Idarassi to be so flexible, shifting and flexing in ways solid armor just couldn't, and kept debris out of his inner systems while the overlapping metal scales provided protection. In some places the mesh had been designed to part, granting access to his internals.

"Fascinating construction," Fix-it murmured as he scrubbed, mentally cataloging what needed to be repaired or replaced. "Ida, roll over please."

The long body rippled under the surface of the cleanser, then Idarassi turned over onto his back to expose the larger scales of his underside. These were the scales that he actually used for movement. Filth was caked under them, so much of it that the scales were unable to fold flat to his frame. Most of the paint, noticeably lighter than his back, was gone, the edges of the scales rusted and coming apart.

The crew went to work again, repeatedly pushing his frame under the surface to help loosen the encrusted debris as they pulled, scrubbed and chipped it away. Though everyone was careful, every so often a larger or sharp chunk coming out caused Idarassi to flinch slightly.

A full-frame flinch and a silent hiss, indicated by streams of bubbles from Idarassi's vents, accompanied the discovery of one such piece of debris, wedged at an angle under one of the larger scales. It turned out to be the broken tip of an electroprod, jammed through the underlying metal mesh and caught in the sensor net beneath it. From the amount of corrosion it had been there for vorns. Idarassi held as still as he could while it was extracted, optics flaring with pain.

"It's almost out," Bluestreak stopped scrubbing to turn his full attention to soothing Idarassi. His hand reached up to stroke the mech's chest, his voice going into auto-babble mode of reassuring words until Idarassi settled again with a full-frame shudder of relief at the extraction of such a long-term irritant.

"Do you know who did this?" Fix-it asked with forced calm.

Yellow optics turned to meet Fix-it's. Idarassi nodded, indicating that he did know who had done it. He slowly flexed that scale, testing the mobility. A thin trail of energon leaked from the wound for a brief klik before stopping.

"The freak show?" Bluestreak asked, his voice trembling slightly at the sight of the energon.

"It's a minor wound," Fix-it reassured the youth. "Painful and I'm going to go in and clean it out completely when we do the repairs, but if it hasn't caused him to deactivate yet, it won't in the next few orns."

Bluestreak's question got another nod. Idarassi used his hands to mime a trap snapping shut, meaning it had been one of the freak show's trappers that had done it, when he had been caught. That prod tip had been wedged there for at least a century.

The rest of the bath, nearly three and a half joors long in all, passed in relative silence. Bluestreak chatted about anything and everything, always upbeat, his voice a soothing blanket around Idarassi's processors as he luxuriated in the warm flowing solvent and the attention that he'd never experienced before.

The half-serpent responded as best he could when he could, but otherwise was content to just listen. It had been a long time since anyone had actually talked to him rather than talking at him. Metal scales flexed, pushing cleanser through the mesh underneath, flushing grime out of his inner systems. His field clearly reflected just how relieved he was to be clean.

When he emerged from the pool, joors later, he was in much better condition than he had been going in. The rust rimming his scales was gone, though some of his underbelly scales had been so badly corroded they'd all but completely disintegrated once the caked-on filth had been removed. His paint, though faded and badly chipped, had been revealed as a base color of deep gray, lighter silver-gray along his underside, with irregular patterns of spots and stripes in shades of dark blues, greens, and purples along his back.

Bluestreak bounded out of the pool to join him. "Will you be all right staying here tonight? I really have to get home. Carrier is going to worry if I'm gone too much longer. Really I should have left two breems ago, but I wanted to see you finished cleaning. The doc and his team are great mechs. You'll be safe here."

Idarassi took a moment to contemplate the question, gaze flicking over the vet and the techs, then he slowly nodded. Being clean was great, but being fully repaired and able to speak again would be better, and that meant he would be spending a lot of time at the clinic. Shifting slightly, he smiled at the Praxian, making a shooing gesture.

"I'll be back in the morning," Bluestreak promised before he transformed and drove off.

"I hope you don't mind recharging on soft shavings in the barn for livestock," Fix-it said with a bit of embarrassment as he motioned Idarassi to follow him. "It's the only space we have big enough for you. We have some thermal blankets to make up for the scales and dirt you're missing. I'd like to start the serious repair work in the morning."

The serpent-mech followed, taking in as much of the facility as he could see along the way. Once in the barn, he lost no time in burrowing into the shavings, arranging his coils into a pile, upper half leaning against the uppermost loop of his frame. Idarassi obviously had no objections to the accommodations; they were superior to anything he'd had to endure for Primus only knew how long.

As Fix-it watched him settle with open fascination, one of the techs came in with an armful of blanks topped with a cube of energon and put them in the corner of the large double stall usually used for difficult separations and twins that couldn't be far apart. The only other resident of the barn was already deep in recharge in the far end.

"The energon is standard grade, but heavy with supplements," Fix-it told him. "Try to drink slowly, but consume it all by morning. If you need something, there's always someone on duty with medical training. Just try not to startle Casperima," he motioned to the riding beast in recharge. "It's partial to bolting when startled."

Idarassi nodded his understanding. He mimed recharging, indicating that what he needed most at the moment, besides fuel, was rest. Uncurling enough to reach the blankets and the cube, he moved them closer, tucking some of the blankets over where he was missing scales. Picking up the cube, he gestured his thanks, taking a long drink before settling back down. He was aware when the pair left, apparently willing to trust that he'd be there in the morning, and he wouldn't eat their other large patient like more than a few scared creators had thought he'd do to their younglings.

SxSxSxSxSxSxSxSx S===================S SxSxSxSxSxSxSxS

Jazz hummed softly as he made his way down the hall to his lover's office. His performance had been well received by the after work crowd gathered at the local club, well enough so that it had earned Jazz an invite to return to sing again. Content, the slender mech intended to poke his helm and see how the Praxian's family outing had gone before washing off the slick show polish and spending the rest of the orn relaxing.

He didn't really bothering with knocking when he reached the closed door, the few taps of his knuckles more of an announcement and warning of his arrival than a real request to enter. One look at his lover, helm down, optics on low, two-panel wings pulled tight to his back, and he knew things had not gone well. He had little doubt that Prowl was even seeing the datapad in his hands.

Quiet grace carried the dark frame into the office, Jazz speaking up as the door closed as not to startle the other mech. "Prowl?"

Sensor wings snapped open as Prowl's helm came up and his ice blue optics brightened to the normal level. The smile was forced, but Jazz knew it meant Prowl thought enough of Jazz's feelings to make the attempt at a warm greeting.

"How did your show go?" Prowl asked as he stood to greet his lover, only a few vorns younger than himself.

"Much better than I am guessing your orn went." Jazz responded, wrapping his arms around the Praxian as his field reached out, full of warmth and affection.

Prowl willingly sank into the embrace, his lover's field and all it offered. "Have you ever been to a freak show?" he asked softly, soaking in the support he badly needed right now to offset how disturbed he was.

A small shiver ran through the mech holding him, speaking far more than the words offered. "They used to pass through on a regular basis. Yes, I was taken to one. To make a point, I think."

"I can't say if this was better than worse than average, but it was bad enough to break almost every abuse law we have. Including Bluestreak's new rescue. A mech the owner insisted was a mechanimal enough he sold him for eleven hundred credits. I don't think he realized that I was already uploading a report in progress to the Enforcer's system as we negotiated. I knew such things existed, that such mecha existed. This was the first time I'd witnessed it first hand."

The dark colored mech in his arms sighed, nuzzling gently at Prowl's neck in comfort and understanding of a much darker world than his lover had ever seen. "It is reality love." He murmured, as much as he did not want to admit to Prowl. "Some of the shows are that- mere entertainment where the mecha are paid under contract. Others...are not much better than traveling slave and mechanimal traders with owners out to make a pure profit."

Prowl nodded, his sensor wings quivering faintly. "Ida will be moving in, at least for a while, once he gets cleared by the vet," he pulled himself together and tugged his lover towards the desk to show him the picture he'd taken of the mech-snake-mix rearing up. "Barring serious complications, he should be able to speak and fully repaired when you meet him, but this is what he looks like now."

The darker mech's visor flashed, though his field radiated curiosity more than anything else. "Interesting frame type. Never seen that before." He took the image to study closer, noting all of the evident abuse and neglect even if his expression never wavered.

"He is supposedly unique, captured between the cities," Prowl nodded.

"And Bluestreak convinced your creators to bring him home." He said, considering.

"Have you ever tried to tell my dear brother no?" Prowl actually chuckled, leaning lightly against his lover. "Carrier set down the rules when he was still a sparkling. They'll apply to this mech until we can prove he's a mech and not a mechanimal."

"I would bet that his master did not wish to part with him. Probably his star attraction?" Jazz nodded, well familiar with the younger one's gift for getting what he wanted by making others want to give it to him. It was a fascinating talent, one simply begging to be abused, only Bluestreak still had not lost track of his morals to the point he was confused by suggestions of how it could be abused.

"Yes, though he was very much afraid of Ida, the handlers were even more so. I believe it was the reminder of just how many laws he was breaking that got him to sell. I'm still rather amazed he went so low. Carrier spends more on crystal flowers for the family meal than I did for a life."

"And it had nothing at all to do with your negotiating talents." Jazz teased, turning his helm to kiss his lover lightly. "Do they have any idea when he will be repaired enough to return home?

"Maybe a little," Prowl conceded with a slight smile that was for real this time. "Based on what I saw, several orns. Just getting him clean enough to properly assess and his energon reserves up to surgery levels will take until morning at least. Which means I really have no excuse for fixating on him or the case now that you are back," he claimed a tender but lingering kiss as his hands slid down Jazz's frame. "Why don't _we_ get this show polish off you so you look like yourself for supper?"

"I do think that might be the best idea I have heard all orn." Jazz replied, claiming another kiss from his lover as he leaned into the touches, willing to encourage anything that would distract Prowl from his discomfort.

Beneath the cool exterior that he tended to present to the rest of the world really was a very affectionate and tactile mech in private, one that Jazz was coming to love more with each passing orn.

"Good," Prowl purred softly and stepped backward, drawing his lover along so they could remain in the embrace and trading kisses all the way to the washrack they shared along with the berth.

Hands that had learned his frame well and quickly traveled along plating in long strokes that did nothing to interrupt the flow of movement until they reached the washrack and Jazz backed his lover against the wall. He felt surprise flicker in Prowl's field for a moment, then a burning flare of raw desire as his mouth was claimed and elegant sensor wings flared on display against the cool metal surface.

Jazz tilted his helm to nuzzle at Prowl's neck as the kiss broke. "You know how much I love your wings."

"Yes," the Praxian moaned shamelessly, tilting his helm back to offer more of his throat to his lover as his valve cover slid open almost soundlessly. "I love your fascination with them." His hand reached between them to slide delicate fingers along Jazz's spike cover.

The gentle laugh was full of warm affection as Jazz reached out run his fingers over the wing surfaces, purring at feel of smooth plating under his touch as his spike cover slid away in answer the searching fingers. Prowl moaned at the stroking, the pleasurable sensations echoing through his sensor net to enhance his response to the feeling of his lover's smooth, warm spike sliding between his fingers and against his palm.

"Love you," Prowl shuddered in arousal and desire. He usually liked to draw the foreplay out, extend the pleasure until they couldn't stand being on the edge any longer before plunging into the fierce heat of the interface. Tonight, though, he only wanted the bliss to wash away his stress as quickly and hard as possible.

The soft sound the escaped slender mech was evidence of how much those simple words, backed by the knowledge that the mech saying them truly meant them, meant to Jazz.

Strong hands tweaked Prowl's wings as Jazz claimed another kiss and rolled his hips into the touch on his spike with clear intent.

Another, stronger shudder passed through Prowl at the sensation and its associated memories. He moaned into Jazz's mouth and shifted to press more of his weight against the wall before hooking a leg around his lover's hips and guiding that simple spike he enjoyed so much to the opening of his valve.

"Beautiful." Jazz praised as his spike slid into the waiting valve in a single, smooth motion. He moaned softly at the feel of the tight, slick warmth and the welcoming arousal in his lover's field. Strong calipers and the flexible valve lining almost coated with sensors tightened around his spike as Prowl all but keened in welcoming relief at the swelling pleasure.

Prowl's hands ran down Jazz's back, seeking, searching, returning to already familiar points that made his lover moan. He needed this, wanted it, but more than the simple pleasure he could have easily bought, he wanted the affection and desire for _him_ that only Jazz could offer. It was affection and desire that was willing given; Jazz only sought the same in return.

Jazz started to move, hips rolling in a strong steady motion to hit as many sensors as possible with each stroke. Strong hands found Prowl's wings once more, indulging them both as nimble fingers found every sensor and crevice that Jazz could reach.

"Yesss," Prowl moaned, his valve tightening around that welcome slide as he rocked his hips into his lover's motions. It felt so good to be cared for this way and he sent a silent thanks to Primus for creators who had done so much to protect him from false affection and show him how good a relationship could really be. He knew they'd have to work at keeping it this good, but every time Jazz embraced him he was reminded it was worth all the work and far more. "Love you Jazz."

"Thank you." Love flared in Jazz's field as his hands slid down to grasp Prowl's hips and allow him thrust deeper and harder, seeking the release they both wanted and he could feel Prowl needed. It was only a couple kliks before Prowl's helm rolled back with a ragged groan and his grip tightened around his lover.

"Close," he whispered, his frame shaking as energy began to dance through his circuits and across his plating. He could have held this off for a couple of breems if he'd wanted to, but tonight he wanted the overload and embraced the rising charge.

"Good." His lover rumbled, helm lifting to lavish attention on Prowl's neck once more. A gentle nip, more holding than biting a main power line and Prowl roared his release into a keen of pure bliss. His field flared sharply, full of energy to share and desire for the mech with him that went well beyond anything physical.

It was energy that was eagerly accepted and returned as it pushed his lover into a matching state of bliss, Jazz's frame locking from the charge and pinning the Praxian against the wall.

Shudders of pleasure energy continued to rock Jazz's frame and pass between them as Jazz released the hold on his lover's neck and kissed the spot gently. Gradually the pair came down from their high with several sloppy kisses and sounds of pleasant relief.

"Needed that," Prowl murmured, nuzzling his lover as they slid apart.

"Anytime." Jazz responded, unable to hide a smile as his fingers ran over the polish transfers now adorning Prowl's frame. "Let me wash that off?"

"As long as I can wash the rest of it off you," Prowl smiled and leaned in for another kiss as he reached to turn on the warm solvent shower. "I hope you're ready to have your audials chatted off. My brother is going to be insufferably excited tonight."

"I don't mind listening to your brother chatter on." Jazz said, reaching for a scrub and the special additive that would help lift the polish. "Like you said, who can deny him?"

"No one I know of," Prowl chuckled as he poured more of the scrub on a cloth and began to rub the glittery polish from his lover, starting with the short, blunt sensor horns.

The touch made his lover melt, Jazz moaning as his optics went dim and his efforts to remove the gleaming streak of gold transfer he had been scrubbing at slowed noticeably.

"I love how to react to this," Prowl whispered in Jazz's audial as he kept his touch firm but gentle in a steady circle. "That it feels so good but doesn't really get you wound up."

"Going to have scrape me up off the floor when I melt if you keep that up." Jazz mumbled, the same threat he made every time that Prowl went after his sensor horns like that.

"All the easier to get the rest of this silly glitter off you," Prowl chuckled, though his still moved inward to work on the top of his lover's helm with the same exacting care he gave everything.

Jazz hummed as he pressed into the touch for a moment before finally focusing back on what he was supposed to be doing and removing the streak of gold splashed across his lover's chest plates.

"Need to have something to make me stand out when I am on stage." He quipped back, tone full of affectionate teasing.

"I think you underestimate your personality," Prowl gave the nearest sensor horn a soft kiss before his hands moved to very carefully clean Jazz's face. "And how striking you look in this city of wings."

"Not exactly the city standard, am I?" Jazz asked, one hand reaching out to brush along a wing and Prowl's glistening chevron in comparison to his own simple, slender blue and black frame.

There was still a small amount of wonder that the beautiful Praxian before him was attracted to him, someone of lower class from one of the lowest of Cybertron's cities.

"No," Prowl shivered faintly at the touch and feelings behind it, though his hands were steady and tender in their work. "Though it was never your looks that drew me, or kept me."

His lover leaned in for a kiss, careful to no cause any more transfer to the areas he had already cleaned before returning to the mutual scrubbing, removing the evidence of his orns works and their much needed fun.


	3. Waking to a New World

**From the Shadows 02: Waking to a New World**  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ =================== ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Systems began booting up, one at a time, in slow, precise order, medical overrides keeping it slow and steady, making sure everything warmed up properly. His optics had yet to reactivate, though messages were already scrolling across Idarassi's HUD, informing him of the lengthy list of repairs that had been done on him.

Proximity sensors and scent receptors told him that there were two mecha nearby. One of them bore the scent he associated with the medic, Fix-it. It took a moment for him to place the other as belonging to the young Praxian, Bluestreak. The serpent-mech's field cautiously extended to brush against theirs. Fix-it seemed very pleased, though exhausted. Bluestreak was excited and happy.

Idarassi's sensor net came fully online, clearly relaying the aching of new parts and extensive repairs. They would be a while integrating fully, as his internal repair system had been only partially functional for vorns and would need time to get back to fully functional status. In the meantime, he would have to deal with the aches. A groan escaped his newly repaired vocalizer, startling him into jerking sideways.

Bluestreak reflexively tried to rush forward to support him, but Fix-it stopped him. "You aren't that strong, mechling. He's in no danger on the floor."

"All right," the youth said unhappily. "That doesn't look comfortable though."

"It's better than having him draped mostly off a table," Fix-it chuckled.

Green-flecked yellow optics finally came online, blinking several times. Scaled coils shifted as he moved into what, for him, was a sitting position, braced against the wall. "Feels weird." His voice, though raspy from disuse, was a pleasant tenor, slightly odd coming from a creature his size.

"I bet ... oops, sorry, please don't tell my creators I said that, Smokey would get in trouble. Again," Bluestreak babbled. "Anyway, you'll get used to it. I think you'll have a very nice voice when you get used to using it again."

"Indeed," Fix-it nodded. "Any errors?"

An optic rim lifted in Bluestreak's direction. "Will take some getting used to... It's been vorns since I was last able to speak." Shifting into a more comfortable position, Idarassi ran a quick systems diagnostic. "No errors that I can see. Feeling better than I have in a long time."

"Good, and I don't doubt you are. It didn't look liked you'd ever seen regular maintenance," Fix-it said. "Bluestreak knows you'll need extra energon for the first decaorn so your self-repair can catch up and fully integrate all the new parts. I've already given him my full documentation on your systems, repairs and damages for the family medic and if this case goes to court. Do you have any questions before I turn you both loose?"

"I've never been seen by a medic, ever." Scales rippled along the length of Idarassi's frame. The rasp was clearing from his voice, revealing an underlying hiss to his speech. He gave Fix-it a curious look. "Court?"

"If you are proven to be sentient, then your former owner broke some serious laws," Fix-it said. "Your condition also brings up likely charges of animal abuse."

"When my brother left he started to record the conditions of every creature he could find," Bluestreak added. "You weren't the only one in bad shape. Streetwise led a raid on the show the night we bought you, just after closing. They're in trouble. It's just a question of how much."

A long, low hiss escaped Idarassi as he considered that. "It would serve him right. Slagger would put out only minimal effort to maintain his captives. There are a lot of deactivated mechanimals and mecha in his wake, hidden where no one would think to look."

"If you know where any of the mecha are we might be able to add to the charges, especially if any came from Praxus or were deactivated in Praxus," Bluestreak perked up, eager to pile on as many charges as possible.

"I was kept in my cage when not in the ring, so I never actually saw where the remains were dumped. Mostly out in the empty stretches between cities along the Badlands. With my positioning system disabled along with my comms I had no way of marking the locations. I'd know the scent of the places if I ever passed them again, but I'm not sure where they are." Idarassi shrugged helplessly. "I do recall that there was one Praxian, an exhibit like I was. He'd been in some bad accident. Half his body was melted, other side looked fine. He died of fuel poisoning from the gutter-slime the ringmaster fed us."

Bluestreak shuddered, a whimper escaping as his wings pulled close to his frame in sympathy for the unknown victim. "Did he every say anything, or any hint you heard of who he was or where he was from? A district, or maybe someone else's designation?"

The half-serpent shook his helm. "I never caught his designation, and he didn't talk much. He mumbled about some big explosion, being caught by molten steel. The place where his frame was dumped smelled of rust and old oil, industrial-type. Some kind of abandoned mine, near a stagnant oil pond."

"That should be enough to start searching for an ID and the frame. The Enforcers might have more questions later," Fix-it said smoothly, stopping Bluestreak from asking more questions on the subject. "Do you have any questions before I turn you both loose?"

The big mech shifted position, considering, then shook his helm. "Not at the moment. Thank you for repairing me."

"You are welcome," Fix-it smiled at the strange creature he'd just spent nearly four orns repairing and replacing parts in. "Enjoy having an existence worth booting up for."

"Come on, Ida," Bluestreak grinned and darted outside to transform.

"I don't think he's grasped that you don't have an alt mode," Fix-it said quietly.

"And I'm not as fast as a ground vehicle can be." Idarassi twitched an audial panel. "This is going to be interesting." He glided smoothly out the door to join Bluestreak. The sleek, sporty black and silver alt was waiting for him, then waited a bit longer.

"It's a _really_ long walk. We should drive," Bluestreak said.

"If I could transform, I would have already," Idarassi replied casually. "I was never built to be able to transform. Another reason I was in the freak show. No alt mode."

Bluestreak transformed at that and stared at Idarassi, his face scrunched up a bit as he tried to think. "It's a _really_ long walk. Probably wouldn't even make it back by dark," he mumbled, trying to think.

Idarassi could see Fix-it leaning against the doorframe, watching and waiting to see if the youth would work something out.

It took nearly a klik before Bluestreak's optics brightened. "I could call a transport again. You'd have to ride in the back, but not in a cage."

"As long as it's not a cage." A shudder ran the whole length of the serpent-mech's frame. "I've had quite enough of those to last me an existence."

"Never again," Bluestreak promised with a pat to the first segment of the serpentine frame. "We'll never cage you. As long as you don't attack anyone except to defend us, no one will have grounds to have you caged either. An open one means you can smell and see, you you'll probably get stared at a lot. There are enclosed transports too, if you'd rather."

Idarassi shuddered again. "I'm used to being stared at. No enclosed spaces, please." His coil shifted into the touch, warm scales pressing against Bluestreak's palm.

"It's okay. No problem," Bluestreak assured him quickly and opened a comm line to his carrier. When he closed it he laughed at himself. "Carrier said he'll be here in a breem. She thought of it when Fix-it said you'd be coming home this orn. It's an open back one, the same mech that brought you here."

The half-serpent settled into a loose ball to wait, enjoying the breeze over his scales. "I like your carrier. She's a sharp femme." He tilted his helm slightly, then leaned forward, forked glossa flicking out. The tips just brushed Bluestreak's cheek, then Idarassi withdrew again.

The mechling giggled at the touch and patted Idarassi's scales again. "Yes, she's very sharp, and very smart. Sire and my brother may handle the business deals that pay for the estate, but carrier _runs_ things. I'm more like her than sire, but I'm not nearly sharp enough to do her function. I'm just glad that Prowl seems to appreciate having me around to play nice with folks he doesn't want to entertain."

"Watching the way your family works is certainly going to be interesting. I've never had the opportunity to see how a family runs. It'll be a learning experience." Idarassi looked up, hearing a gyrofalcon's screech from high overhead.

"You were sparked?" Bluestreak asked as much as assumed. "Is that why we've never recorded a frame like yours before? I did some research after I went home ... well, I wheedled my brother into it. He's so much better with databases and phrasing huge amounts from a search."

"I was sparked into this frame. As an _experiment_." There was ice in Idarassi's voice as the horror crossed Bluestreak's. "My creator was a scientist, one of those who would often ignore ethics and rules for an experiment. He wanted to see if he could build a mech that moved, looked, and behaved like some organic creatures he'd seen. I escaped when I'd had enough of being poked, prodded, scanned, and disassembled for his experiments."

Bluestreak trembled uncontrollably for a long moment before he managed to collect himself and look up at Idarassi with something between pity and regret. "I knew mecha could be cruel. I mean, some have to be with so many murders and rapes and such, but to spark a mech just to disassemble him..."

"There are a lot of mecha like that out there, unfortunately. Though now there is one less. My creator managed to deactivate himself a few vorns after I escaped. Lab accident; an experiment backfired on him. Not much left of his lab or of him. Good riddance." One shoulder lifted in a shrug as scaled coils sidled closer to the young Praxian.

"He didn't deserve being called a creator," Bluestreak spat. "Creators care, or at least they _try_ to care. I know sometimes it doesn't work, but they try. That was a monster," his sputtering rant was cut short by a large transport with an open back driving up. "That's our ride."

"I agree with you there," Idarassi told him, looking up as the transport pulled to a stop. "I didn't get the chance to say hello when you transported me out of that hellhole."

"You're welcome," the vehicle sounded genuinely surprised. "Climb in back and we can get going."

The half-serpent inclined his helm, then flowed up and into the back of the hauler. He arranged himself in a neat, compact pile, leaning against the back of the cab. "I'm ready."

"Then relax and hold on," the truck sounded fairly cheerful as it rolled out, gradually picking up speed on the open road.

What was it about Praxus that they didn't seem to care about his looks or lack of alt mode? The majority of the crowd had reacted the way he expected, but every since Prowl had bought him everyone seemed to act like he was just another mech.

The lack of the response Idarassi had come to expect threw the half-serpent for quite a loop. Being a captive for so long had taught him to expect normal mecha to respond with shock, revulsion, and fear at the least. Or maybe that had been due to his behavior in the ring, prodded and tormented into a rage and turned into the ring to deliberately scare. Maybe Praxus was just different. It would give him a lot to think about.

Careful of his claws, Idarassi held onto the edge of the cab, taking in as much of the city as he could see. Scents washed over him, carried by the wind, giving his processors fits as he tried to sort them all out. He wouldn't trade the ride for anything though. It was incredible to see and smell everything being so _clean_. So different from anywhere else he'd been, but then he was never in the higher-income areas either.

They weren't headed for the palaces or towers of the nobles, but they were definitely headed into one of the wealthier areas. Yellow optics were wide, taking in all there was to see. Idarassi lifted himself up a bit higher, bracing against the rush of air pushing against his plating, and just stared. So this was what culture shock felt like.

Here he got more of the startled looks he was used to, but little hostility. The presence of the transport was likely reassuring to the locals that all was well. Whatever the cause, it felt amazing. So did not being in pain. He couldn't even describe the feeling of having full tanks.

This new life was so very different from anything he'd experienced before, so much better than being kept as an experiment or living in a filthy cage. It would take a lot of adjusting to, and probably would take orns to reassure himself this actually was real and not some dream brought on by a desire to be out of his chains. If this was real and not a dream, he hoped it would last as long as possible.

They pulled into the delivery bay of a residential tower and came to a smooth stop.

"We're here," Bluestreak chirped happily as he hopped out of the cab. "We live on the thirty-seventh floor. There's a really nice view of the gardens from the north side."

"I look forward to seeing it," Idarassi replied as he flowed down from the hauler, waving toward the mech before following Bluestreak. "Hopefully there's enough room for a mech my size... I don't exactly meet normal specifications."

"You're fine. You aren't taller than the fliers that live below us. A lot longer, but not really taller. High ceilings are a luxury we can well afford," he chatted as the lift opened for them. "You'll have to curl your tail around, but it's still bigger than that cage."

Coiled up, Idarassi could fit into an amazingly small amount of space. He slid into the lift, curling into a tight ball to take up as little space as possible. Settling in, he watched as Bluestreak joined him and the lift doors closed.

"That really is amazing," the young mechling continued to comment on whatever crossed his processors as the lift moved, taking them upwards. "You fit into less space than I do when I transform, but you don't transform. You are just that flexible."

"I was built to be as flexible as the organic life-forms the scientist who built me had studied," the half-serpent answered, glossa flicking out on the "s" sound. "He claimed it took decades of trial and error. I'm not sure if that was an exaggeration or not. I wasn't sparked into this frame until construction was completed. My lack of legs aside, I can climb, too."

"Really?" soft blue optics brightened and widened. "How can you climb? I mean, I can barely climb and I have legs," he didn't even pause as the lift opened into the delivery room of the family home and he walked out. "Are you hungry? Dinner will be soon, but it's social time. It's good not to be too hungry for it or carrier gets annoyed. Oh, and my brother's lover lives with us. I think you'll like Jazz. He's social and lots of fun. Has a great singing voice too, and can he dance!"

"As long as the surface I'm climbing isn't perfectly smooth, I can hook my underbody scales onto tiny ledges and into seams and pull myself up that way." Idarassi followed Bluestreak out of the lift, glancing around curiously. At the question about being hungry, he shifted slightly. "I haven't eaten since before I went into stasis for surgery," he admitted. One audial panel twitched. "I haven't heard song in a long time. Dance is beyond my ability, though."

"Prowl is encouraging Jazz to go pro. He does well enough performing in clubs to have more requests than he can fill and not leave Prowl grumpy about being ignored," Bluestreak giggled as the door opened and they entered the first of the living spaces. It was bright and open with walls of clear crystal to let the sunlight in, statues, artwork and even organic imports from far away worlds. "I'm sure Jazz will sing if you ask him too. He likes the mood it puts Prowl in," he giggled again.

Idarassi paused in the doorway, staring. Belatedly he remembered to move his tail out of the way before the door closed on it, loosely coiling around himself. His forked glossa flicked out, tasting the air, taking in the scents. When he moved again, he threaded his way around the room, taking care not to bump into anything that might be fragile or breakable. "Wow. I've never seen anything like this before."

"Really?" Bluestreak blinked, then ducked in embarrassment. "Of course you haven't. I'm sorry. You told me that. This is just home to me. It's a lot like the others I've been to on both sides of the family and my friends. It's nice but nothing like the residence of a minor noble I got to visit once, or the royal palace I attended with carrier and my brother when I was little for the celebration of their new heir. Did you want energon? I have some in my room. It's next to yours. Just a snack so you can be social for dinner. Carrier is big on manners."

"I've been in a scientist's lab, out alone in the wilds, and in a freak show cage. But never in an actual residence." The half-serpent paused to look out the windows, gazing at the view. Then his fuel tanks grumbled at him, getting a twitch from his tailtip. "Yes, I would like some energon, please. It's been orns since my last refuel, and I'd rather be able to socialize as best I can rather than behaving like the animal Backslide considered me."

"Aw, you were never that primitive," Bluestreak trilled and showed him down a hallway, through a double wide door and into to a simpler part of the residence. "The servants' quarters and utilities are down this way. The kitchen and pantry are these first two," he motioned to the doors to his left and right. "I'm not allowed to have my pets on open feeding, but carrier said you were special because even though you have to be registered as a slave-coded mechanimal for now, _she_ considers you a mech. It just takes time for all the forms and formalities to get sorted out. So you can come back here anytime for a snack."

Bluestreak opened the door on the right, revealing a simple room lined with shelves of various grades and types of energon, supplements, additives and serving dishes. Everything was neatly labeled. "This is the pantry. You can have anything you want, as long as you don't get overcharged outside your room or mine. Both my creators are very strict about that. High grade is for relaxing with, not to alter your personality in public."

The serpent-mach made careful note of everything, working out a map of the residence in his processor. Looking into the pantry, he flicked out his glossa for scents, a ripple running through his frame at what he detected. "I don't even recognize half these additives, but then, I've never really had any before. I've seen the freak show crews overcharged on high grade between shows, but I myself have never gotten near the stuff. Somehow I doubt I'd react to it very well."

"Then after dinner, when no one is going to be expecting us for a while, you can try some in my room," Bluestreak picked up a cube of high grade from the lower end of the potency scale. He also grabbed half a dozen additive packets. "It'd be good for you to know what you can tolerate and what you shouldn't consume. It helps to know what extras you like. Our chef will start asking in a few orns. We can just try some in small amounts in my room where no one will have to see you spit it out if it doesn't settle. Grab a snack and I'll show you your room, and mine."

Idarassi looked around the pantry, his expression that of a mech who didn't know how to identify most of what he was seeing. It was obvious that most of what Bluestreak was used to, the half-serpent had never seen before, much less had the chance to taste. Finally, he picked up a cube of regular energon. "It's going to take some trying. I'm not sure what most of these are." He poked a tentative claw at an intricately-shaped solid on another shelf.

Bluestreak giggled. "That's an energon candy. It's really good. Go ahead and try it."

The bigger mech poked it again before carefully picking it up, looking at it from all angles. After a moment he finally took a tentative nibble, yellow optics flaring and scales rippling at the taste. Idarassi gave the solid in his hand an astonished look, taking another bite. "It's good."

"I love them. Carrier insists I don't have more than five an orn," he grinned. "Come on, you'll have plenty of time to get used to everything. It'll just be the six of us at dinner tonight. I don't know if carrier is going to invite you to the big formal dinner next decaorn. I rather doubt it so soon, but it'll depend on how well you're settling in."

The half-serpent looked rather dazed as he backed out of the pantry, following Bluestreak down the hall. "This is most definitely going to take some getting used to."

"You'll have time," Bluestreak promised as he led the way to an internal lift. "We own two floors, so the berthrooms are on the top floor."

"Now I know what culture shock feels like." Idarassi boarded the lift, curling up tightly.

The Praxian was instantly close, one hand stroking along metal scales as he extended his field, warm and caring. "It'll be okay, Ida. No one is expecting you to know how to act right away. Everyone here is used to the strange things that move in for a while. They'll all be relieved to realize you not only understand language, but can talk."

"I can talk and understand language, but I was never properly socialized, so my social skills are... lacking." Warm scales tentatively leaned into Bluestreak's hand. "I have a lot to learn."

Bluestreak leaned a little closer, welcoming the contact and reaching out for more. "You're nice, even unsocialized and starving," he trilled gently. "You've got good social instincts. I know I never really feel rested after I've been in medical stasis. It wouldn't be wrong to take a nap, or just snuggle and relax before dinner," he added before the lift opened and he stepped away to lead Idarassi along the hall.

A slight shiver rippled the length of Idarassi's frame, helm to tail. "The touching will take as much getting used to. I've never known a touch that wasn't indifferent at best and meant to cause pain at worst. Please, don't touch me if I'm not already aware of your presence. If startled, I react on instinct... I don't want to hurt anyone, either deliberately or by accident."

"Oh! I'm sorry. I'll ask next time, okay? Carrier said I got all the tactile nature my brother doesn't have along with the social nature," Bluestreak rambled nervously. "I like touching everything and everyone. I don't even think about it. It's comforting, or I mean it to be. I'll be careful with you, I promise. If I'm touching too much, you can tell me. I won't be offended or anything."

"As long as you don't sneak up and startle me. Tactile contact is something I'll have to get used to, and there's no time like the present to start." Idarassi followed Bluestreak out of the lift and down the hall. His glossa flickered out, then back in, and the half-serpent frowned. "I hope no one finds this offensive or rude..."

"Not among the immediate family," Bluestreak reassured him. "That's my brother's suite he shares with Jazz. You _definitely_ want ping for one of them to open the door. Not that they seem to care, but I've seen them up to things I _really_ wish I hadn't."

Idarassi looked relieved at that. "Good to know. Most of the time I don't even realize I'm doing it." He tilted an audial panel at Bluestreak, amusement rippling through his field. "Duly noted."

"I did tell you they are lovers, right?" Bluestreak entered babble mode as he palmed open the door across from his brother's and stepped inside. "They're really a sweet pair. I've seen my brother smile more in the last vorn than since I separated from carrier. I think that's won our creators over. Prowl's _happy_, and well, it helps that we don't have to worry about Jazz's family connections damaging our reputation since he was disowned."

The room was large, with a berth big enough for Idarassi to be only loosely coiled on. A desk, large vidscreen, several chairs and shelves of objects and datapads filled the space, making it seem much smaller than it really was.

"Oh, right, carrier wanted to know if you're functionally literate," he asked as the door finally closed behind the last of Idarassi's tail.

"It was mentioned that your brother's lover lived here, too," the half-serpent confirmed, pausing to look at the room. It took him a moment to start moving again. "I can read and write... I carved words into the floor at the freak show, telling you to call me Ida since my full designation can be hard to pronounce. Never got much opportunity to do either, though." He eased over to the berth, sliding up over one side and down over another. "This is mine?"

"Technically this is my room. Yours is the next door on this side," Bluestreak giggled. "Though I like snuggling if you ever feel like recharging here. She remembered what you wrote down, but that doesn't always mean you can read the news or a contract," he explained with a warm smile. "The berth in your room is longer, and with stronger supports. You'll still have to curl up, but only in half or so. Prowl thought you would be more comfortable that way than completely stretched out."

Idarassi nodded, settling into a loose ball. "Normally I sleep curled into a ball... But then, that fragging cage didn't leave me much room. Being able to stretch out at least a bit will be a welcome change." After a moment he eased closer, into easy touching distance, and resettled.

Bluestreak smiled and relaxed, his hand reaching out to gently stroke along warm scales when he was sure Idarassi was looking. "Your room does look a lot like this one, but instead of a chair for you there is a big U shaped cushion for you to snuggle into. Another of Prowl's ideas. Though you're welcome to recharge here before dinner if you want, or we can see what's worth watching on the vid."

The serpent mech blinked. "There are things that aren't worth watching?" he asked, confusion clear in his voice. He glanced at the screen, tilting his helm to one side to study it.

A soft smile and caress of Bluestreak's field tried to take the sting out of the next words before the screen lit up with the news from Iacon. "I think so. There's only so many ways to listen to the same news from different cities, but really I meant the shows. Some script writing and acting is better than others, some shows are big on special effects, and there are entire types that I just don't find interesting. We have over sixteen thousand channels available. I think what's on most of it isn't worth the time to watch."

Idarassi's response to that was a long stare as he tried to think of some way to respond. After a klik or two, a shake rippled scales the length of his frame. "I'll take your word for that." Adjusting his position, he draped his upper half over a loop of tail, letting his optics dim.

"Recharge well," Bluestreak smiled and relaxed himself. He changed to one of his favorite programs and muted the audio to feed directly to his comm system so Idarassi wouldn't be disturbed by it.

The half-serpent hummed softly, optics turning off and coils pulling in slightly as he slipped into a light recharge.

SxSxSxSxSxSxSxSx S===================S SxSxSxSxSxSxSxS

Idarassi picked nervously at a nonexistent scuff on his armor plating as he followed Bluestreak toward the dining room. The Praxian had carefully prodded the half-serpent awake when Idarassi failed to awaken on his own in time for dinner, waiting while the serpent-mech quickly ran clawed fingers through his synthetic mane and quickly brushed off his scales before leading the way.

When the pair reached the dining room, Idarassi paused for a moment, peering to take in the gathered mecha in before gliding into the room. All but one he'd seen before. Prowl and his creators were seated, along with a slender black and deep blue mechling with a blue visor next to Prowl around an ovoid table.

"That's Jazz," Bluestreak said with a motion to the unknown mech next to his brother as he guided Idarassi to sit on one end of the ovoid's long side, across from Prowl and next to him. "This is Idarassi."

The other mechling smiled up at Idarassi, the expression open and welcoming. "Nice to meet you."

The half-serpent nodded to everyone. "It is good to meet everyone." He slid forward, following Bluestreak. Curling into a tight coil, he leaned against his own tail, tucking the rest of his long body under the table.

"I hope our youngest has made you feel comfortable, Idarassi," Starbright smiled at him as two servants came out to set plates of delicately crafted energon solids before each of them.

"He has," Idarassi confirmed, nodding. "As well as hinting at just how much I have to learn." Yellow optics took in the solids, forked glossa flicking out. He whipped it back in as soon as he noticed, glancing sheepishly toward Bluestreak's creators.

"Your glossa is most unusual," Darksky spoke up, his voice low and cool. It was immediately apparent where Prowl inherited much of his mannerisms from. "It is purely a decorative design?"

The serpent-mech looked up from examining the solids. "Its design is based on the organic life-forms the scientist who built me had been studying. But no, it's not purely decorative. It is heavily wired with chemoreceptors. I can literally taste scent. It's actually more sensitive than my nasal passages are, and there's a sensor cluster in the roof of my mouth to help me sort out scents. That's why it keeps flicking out."

"Fascinating," Prowl murmured. "That would make it more than decorative. That design makes such an action both more energy efficient, data collection effective and less socially questionable. It would make what you consume a rather different experience as well, I expect."

The slender mech next to him elbowed Prowl rather roughly, huffing as he looked at Idarassi. "Forgive him. In case no one has warned you, his first reaction is to analyze _everything_."

"It's my function," Prowl shot back. Despite the aggressive tone and posture, he wasn't fooling anyone.

Idarassi chuckled softly. "I think I was warned." His glossa shot out, flicking at the air, then whipped back in again. "And he's right, though. All the sensors do make eating a different experience." He made a face. "They certainly kept me well aware of all the contaminants in the sludge the ringmaster fed me."

"You will have no more of that while you are here," Starbright said firmly. "We keep good energon in stock. A healthy fuel is critical for a fit frame and processor."

"And any other activities that one might indulge in." Jazz teased his lover very quietly.

Sensor wings fluttered before settling as Prowl suppressed a deep rumble of desire that made his brother giggle and carrier smile.

The half-serpent inclined his helm to Starbright, taking a moment to swallow a bite. "I'll just have to be careful of it for a while... I'm not used to energon of this quality, so my systems will require a bit of adjustment." His hissing accent was slightly more pronounced, the forked tips of his glossa showing as he spoke the "s" sounds.

"We understand. You are not the first starving creature my youngest has brought home, I doubt you will be the last, even if you are the most intelligent," Starbright said easily. "There is no need to rush refueling. Meals here are a social time."

"You get used to it rather quickly." Jazz promised, revealing that it had been something of a novelty to him. The casual atmosphere and sincere warmth had been far different what he was used to.

"Are the artifacts in your speech a factor of your glossa's design, or is it programming?" Prowl asked, earning another jab in the side from his lover.

"You mean the hiss in my speech? It's because of the design of my glossa. It wants to shoot out when I pronounce certain sounds. When I'm really tired and not really concentrating, my speech is as much hiss as actual words," the half-serpent answered. "It took some practice to be able to speak as clearly as I do." His long body shifted into a more comfortable position, the end of his tail just brushing Prowl's pede.

While the Praxian's sensor wings twitched, that was as much of a reaction as Prowl gave. "I imagine that could make socializing difficult, whether tired or overcharged. Your comm may be a better choice in those situations."

"This is the most socialization I've ever had in my existence, so I guess it would, but I don't know for sure." Idarassi's shrug rippled the whole length of his frame. "When I'm tired, I'm difficult to understand. Overcharged... I've never been near high grade, but probably."

"You'll get used to people," Bluestreak promised with an absent pat to the nearest bit of Idarassi's coil. "We have lots of nice friends we can introduce slowly, until you feel up to being part of carrier's social events."

"Yes, my youngest is quiet adept at socializing those not used to it," Starbright smiled warmly. "We do typically talk business over the family meals. Currently you are the most notable business we have. Bluestreak has told me that you consider yourself literate. Since we do have a contract to discuss, it would be understandable if you would wish representation of a legal specialist to protect your interests."

The blank look on the half-serpent's face clearly said that had gone right over his helm. "Pardon?" He looked from Starbright to Bluestreak and back. "I can read and write, though I'm out of practice on both. But... what contract?"

"A personal service contract between yourself and Bluestreak," she explained smoothly. "It is to protect both sides, particularly once you are confirmed to be a mech, legally."

"Basically, it lists out what you are to do, and not do, and what our responsibilities are in exchange, and for how long," Bluestreak spoke up. "It's with me because you were purchased for me. Right now you're legally a mechanimal, but once you're legally a mecha you'll be a slave because you were bought by those petitioning for your change in legal status. The contract would override the legal default."

Idarassi blinked several times as he digested that, trying to wrap his processor around it. "I think I'm probably going to need a legal specialist just to be able to understand what's going on," he finally admitted, his coils pulling closer.

"It's okay," Bluestreak assured him, his field reaching out to comfort him. "That's why carrier offered. There is a government department that gives legal advice to those who can't afford an independent lawyer. Several of them specialize in service contracts. It's a matter of honor to have one of them co-sign a contract asserting it is fair to both sides. It means you won't be bound to us forever. Probably just a few vorns after it's all settled and you're a legal mecha."

The edges of the serpent-mech's field melded slowly with Bluestreak's, revealing the depth of Idarassi's confusion. "It's still a lot to take in," the half-snake replied. A audial panel twitched. "Fix-it also indicated that the Enforcers will probably want to speak with me at some point."

"They will in the morning, after breakfast," Starbright nodded. "I will arrange for a representative to be there when we discuss the contract, and whether you wish to accept it, in full."

Idarassi inclined his helm in acknowledgement, picking up another solid from his plate and taking a bite. Yellow optics drifted over to Jazz. "Bluestreak told me that you're a singer."

"Yes," the mechling smiled brightly. "I have several regular gigs around the city, though not enough to be considered pro yet."

"It is only a matter of time, and a deal that I like enough to back," Prowl added. "He has the talent and skill."

Audial panels twitched with interest. "Perhaps sometime I could hear you sing? It's been a very long time since I last heard music of any sort. Longer than I've been on my own or captive at that show."

"After dinner?" Prowl suggested softly to his lover. "Since I missed that one show."

"Which I made up to you that night," Jazz snickered before leaning over to steal a kiss. "I'm game to sing after dinner."

Yellow optics brightened, eagerness in every line of plating and scale. "I would like that."


	4. Contractual Obligations

**From the Shadows 03: Contractual Obligations**  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ =================== ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"It'll be okay," Bluestreak assured as part of his usual chatter as he showed Idarassi to his carrier's lounge, the place where the family matriarch conducted the most serious business. "Remember, the lawyer is there to protect _you_. To make sure you get a fair deal out of this and it's the protection we're telling you it is. Everything we have to do and everything that's expected of you will be spelled out in very simple language. You don't have to agree to it, but I don't really want a slave and these get a lot tougher once you are one."

Dark gray, patterned scales were puffed out slightly from Idarassi's frame, clearly indicating his nervousness. His scales had been like that all orn, especially following the lengthy interview with the Enforcers earlier. "As long as someone clearly explains everything I might not understand."

"That's what Proxy Guard is there to do. It's what he's _paid_ to do," Bluestreak assured him as they entered the room where Starbright and a slender one-panel mech of light blue and greens were chatting quietly.

The pair looked up and smiled in welcome.

The mech stood and glided over to Idarassi. "I am Proxy Guard. I have read the briefing on your case," he said easily, offering his hand to the serpent-mech

"Call me Ida. Less of a mouthful than my full designation." Idarassi took the offered hand after a moment, being careful of the sharp claws on his fingers. It still amazed him to no end that mecha could treat him like a normal Cybertronian instead of a strange, potentially dangerous creature.

"Come and settle, Ida," Proxy Guard said easily as he motioned to the sitting area. "I have read the contract they are proposing and am ready to explain what every clause means in simple terms."

"The simpler the better." The relief in Idarassi's voice was clearly audible. He eased forward, curling up into a fairly compact ball of scales, leaning against his own coils. The tip of his tail out to loop loosely around Bluestreak's ankle. The mechling smiled and scooted closer, his field warm, happy and supportive.

"If you have questions about anything, please ask. Answering those questions is why I am here," Proxy Guard said firmly as he offered Idarassi a datapad with the contract on it so he could follow along. "What Starbright and Bluestreak are proposing is a fairly simple service contract. In exchange for a place you live, the energon you need, medical care, legal fees and your other needs, you will serve as a companion and guardian for Bluestreak for one hundred and six vorns. One vorn will be added for each sixty thousand credits spend on your support after the contract is signed. They have agreed to a cap of three hundred vorns no matter how much is spent. The account balance will be open to your review at all times. Barring unexpected expenses, it should run out in approximately a hundred and twenty vorns."

One audial panel twitched slightly back and forth as Idarassi looked over the datapad, reading it over carefully. "What would 'companion and guardian' entail?"

"You stay close to me whenever I'm out of the house, if I'm attacked, you get between me and whoever's attacking. Preferably to stop them without killing them, but if it's a choice between our lives and theirs, they lose," Bluestreak answered. "Companion means that you stay close to me too, but in a friendly way, like we have been. If we share a berth, it's completely by your choice. It's not required of you, not that I'd even want that. I don't get off on power games. If I'm really desperate for a berthmate and one of my friends isn't available, I just call one of the pleasurebots that my carrier's vetted."

The half-serpent considered that for a long moment. "That sounds reasonable." His tailtip, still curled around Bluestreak's leg, twitched. "I think it would be safe to say I can scare off most would-be attackers... Hopefully going further than just scaring won't be necessary. As for the rest... I need the contact."

"And I like your company," Bluestreak said with a smile. "We tried to pick duties that would be easy for you."

"The contract includes clauses specifying that they are obliged to pay for all fees associated with confirming your status as a mecha, even if it takes longer than you are bound by the contract," Proxy Guard continued. "If the government rejects all efforts to change your status, they agree to support you as Bluestreak's pet for as long as you wish to stay. That will also negate the service part of the contract. You will no longer be obliged to guard Bluestreak."

After taking a moment to work that out, Idarassi nodded slowly. His coils shifted briefly. "I don't want to be a burden."

"You won't be," Bluestreak insisted quickly. "Companionship is worth something, a lot really. You aren't as expensive to keep as one of carrier's show mounts. It's really not that big a deal. We have plenty of credits and Prowl and sire "

"That is true," Starbright added regally. "Prowl supports Jazz. I have many show animals and support rescue organizations. Darksky supports several local artists and charities. Bluestreak is entitled to support a mech or two if that if his desire. You do give back when you make him happy."

That got a relieved ripple from Idarassi's field, and his scales started to settle. "And Blue can help get me properly socialized." He looked over the contract again, one clawtip lightly tracing over the screen, careful not to damage it. "The contract is acceptable."

"Good," Bluestreak quivered with excitement before launching himself at Idarassi to wrap his arms around the much larger mech in a hug.

"I agree that it is quite fair," Proxy Guard agreed and signed his full, formal designation glyph to the contract before handing it to Idarassi to sign once he extracted himself from Bluestreak.

Scaled coils stiffened in surprise at the sudden tackle-hug, then slowly relaxed. One arm came up to return it awkwardly. It took him a couple kliks to extract himself enough to sign his own formal designation to the contract.

Bluestreak signed next, then Starbright.

"Do you have any final questions before I leave?" Proxy Guard asked Idarassi.

"Pretty much all of my questions have been answered," the half-serpent replied, settling back with one loop of his tail brushing against Bluestreak's leg. He'd made a point of asking whatever popped to mind about the contract, after being assured that there was no such thing as a stupid question.

"Then I hope that all goes well and you have no need of my services again," Proxy Guard stood and smiled at Idarassi before leaving.

Bluestreak hugged Idarassi again, radiating delight. "Now that that's all settled..."

"It is time for your studies," Starbright reminded him, causing Bluestreak's wings to dip.

"Yes, carrier," he vented. "Come on Ida. You can catch up on your education while I work on mine."

Idarassi shifted, gliding toward the door, somehow managing to uncoil in a manner that had Bluestreak riding on his back for a klik. "_That_ I'm definitely going to be asking a lot of questions about..."


	5. Dance Clubbing

**From the Shadows 04: Dance Clubbing**  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ =================== ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Idarassi followed Bluestreak and Smokescreen, scales rippling with slight nervousness. This would be his first time facing a crowd since being rescued from the freak show. Crowds he was used to; he'd faced them many times while chained and enslaved by the ringmaster. This would be the first time there would be no separating ring, no chains, no one to keep them away from him, or him away from them. He was understandably nervous.

The young Praxian had done his best to get the half-serpent ready for the experience. It had taken some doing. Before leaving the residence, Idarassi had given himself as thorough a grooming as he could manage, polishing his scales and making sure he at least looked decent. It was a process that Bluestreak and Jazz had gleefully joined in the effort with before Jazz and Bluestreak went to work on the gray Praxian's finish.

Now around the general public, though still in on of the nicer districts, there were many more of the startled, uneasy looks or stares. Still, there was no jeering and Bluestreak's endless happy chatter at his side was a pleasant reminder that he had a friend now and he wasn't going back to a cage.

Yellow optics took in everything there was to see. Idarassi's forked glossa was out more than in, sampling the air, taking in the scents of the area. He noted the uneasy and startled looks, but kept his frame language as neutral and unthreatening as possible.

Audial panels shifted upward as Idarassi caught music from the structures ahead. "That's where we're going?"

"Yep," Bluestreak said cheerfully. "They have standard grade and a big space for mecha to hang out off the dance floor that you can find a spot to watch, have a nice cube that won't mess you up and watch me dance when I'm not with you."

"It's one of the better clubs. Overcharged mecha aren't tolerated," Smokescreen added. "The high grade is to get a nice buzz, but it's really a place to dance and hang out."

"And maybe pick up a playmate for the night," Bluestreak added with a giggle.

"One who won't mind your pet snake." The laugh in Idarassi's voice made the words a tease. "This is certainly going to be interesting. And I'll avoid the high-grade... Even with the tastes of the stuff that I've had, I still have the tolerance of a newspark."

"Right," Bluestreak nodded. "They know you're coming, so the staff won't be surprised. I can't say the same of the patrons, but the regulars are used to me and my habit of brings strange critters with me."

"The one server who has a fear of large mechanimals isn't working tonight," Smokescreen added. "Another reason it's tonight that we're going."

"Yeah, we want this to work out for everybody," Bluestreak nodded as they got into the short line at the entrance. "So we did more arrangements then we usually do."

"Understandable." Idarassi nodded. "We don't want anyone panicking if we can help it." He pulled in his tail to take up less space, waiting calmly.

"Hey, Blue," a voice called from the street, drawing their attention to a bright white and silver Praxian with two sensor wing panels and a pale blue chevron. "Is that your new pet? I heard you got a _big_ one this time."

"Hi Skywhisper," Bluestreak waved back. "Yep, this is Ida. He talks, and carrier is trying to get him registered as a mech. He's that smart, and with a spark."

Idarassi turned his attention to the other mech, tilting his helm curiously. The light breeze brought him the newcomer's scent, which was carefully filed away in the half-serpent's processor. "Hello... Skywhisper, is it?"

"Yes," the young mech came up to them. At this range Idarassi could pick up mild unease, but the mech was controlling it. "How did you end up with that frame?"

"An amoral scientist built it and put a spark into it, just to see if the spark would accept the frame or reject it. That spark was me. I've always been like this." Idarassi's shrug rippled along his entire frame.

Skywhisper's optics watched the motion all the way down to the tip, which was lightly resting against Bluestreak's pede.

"He was the star attraction at the freak show that got shut down," Bluestreak added as they moved forward a couple steps. "We're trying to give him good social examples."

"Coming in?" Smokescreen asked with a lecherous grin.

Skywhisper laughed and fluttered his sensor wings teasingly. "Maybe, if you're dancing tonight."

"You know I am," Smokescreen grinned and pulled the pale colored mech next to him.

"I'm learning a lot with Blue," Idarassi added, gliding forward as the line moved. "So much I never knew before. It's quite an experience."

"I bet," Skywhisper smiled at him as the line moved forward again. "Blue's great at socializing. He's even managed to teach his brother a few things."

The half-serpent snorted in amusement. "And that's a bigger project than I am, from what I've seen of Prowl."

"He's not that bad," Bluestreak huffed, but his sensor wings fluttered with amusement. "He's just not social to start with. You've seen him with Jazz."

"He's mush around that mech," Smokescreen snickered. "It's such good blackmail material."

"Prowl and Jazz are cute together." The big mech nodded. "It can make teasing them quite fun." He eased forward as the line moved again, scales brushing Skywhisper's leg before Idarassi pulled in his coils again.

"Have you seen Jazz perform?" Skywhisper asked after he settled from the slight startle of the touch.

"I've heard Jazz sing at the residence, but I have yet to actually see him perform at a club," Idarassi answered. "I hope to, at some point. This is my first time out since being rescued from the freak show."

"You will," Bluestreak promised with a hug while Smokescreen paid the door charge for all four of them. "When you feel ready, Prowl goes to nearly every show Jazz gives. I'll come too, if you want me to. He's amazing to watch, and watching the crowd watch him is just as fun."

Idarassi returned the hug, his glossa darting out to flick against Bluestreak's chevron. "We'll see how well tonight goes. Then, maybe, I'll be ready to try other new things."

"You'll get used to it, eventually," Bluestreak said with determination as they walked into a large space with scores of mecha, almost all young Praxians. Most were on the dance floor that was almost ninety percent of the floor space. There were several small bars without seating scattered about the dancers, but it didn't seem like there was anywhere to sit and rest.

"It's all on the second floor," Bluestreak motioned upwards, drawing Idarassi's gaze to the wide catwalks with clear floors that had the full scale bar and a great seal of seating with small tables for those who wanted to watch or needed a break from the dancing.

The half-serpent pretended to ignore the way people shied away from him, though he was well aware of them. "Good view and leaves more room for dancing."

"Yep," Bluestreak nudged him to follow Smokescreen and Skywhisper up.

Idarassi took one look at the stairs, then went up one of the supports instead, coiling around it and lifting himself up to the second level. He flowed over the railing, curling into a tight loop. "Stairs are awkward at best," he replied in response to the funny look he got.

"You really do know how to get around," Bluestreak grinned in reply as they followed Smokescreen and Skywhisper to the bar that was centered on the far wall. Skywhisper paid for Smokescreen's cube of highgrade as well as his own, while Bluestreak ordered a midgrade for himself and lowgrade, both effervescent with silver and a rust dusting.

"More than one way to get somewhere," the half-serpent agreed, settling into a spot where he could watch but wouldn't be tripped over. Bright, curious optics watched the dancers below, ignoring the nervous glances they gave him when they noticed. He was far enough above optic level that most didn't. Those seated around him looked, stared, one couple moved away uneasily.

Yet most seemed to accept his company as enough reassurance that he was safe to be around, even if he looked strange and a bit menacing.

"Another reason we picked this club," Smokescreen said as he joined Idarassi and Bluestreak at the table. "We're well known enough here that our presence means something to the patrons. We're trusted enough not to bring something dangerous in, and the club is trusted enough not to allow it."

Patterned coils shifted slightly, pulling into a tight ball. Idarassi took a sip of the energon Bluestreak handed him, humming slightly. "Makes sense." Yellow optics dimmed slightly as the half-serpent turned part of his attention to the music, shifting one audial panel slightly. It was simple compared to what Prowl and Bluestreak played, or even what Jazz sung, with a heavy beat suited to the movements of those below.

Listening to the beat, Idarassi couldn't help moving to it somewhat, the end of his tail shifting back and forth in time. It was a different kind of music than what he'd heard before, but it was good, and the beat was infectious.

Bluestreak grinned at him. "It's dance music. It's meant to get you to dance. I'm going to dance once I'm finished," he lifted his cube.

Yellow optics brightened and refocused. "It's certainly enjoyable to listen to." Idarassi looked down at himself. "I can't dance like that. One of the downsides of lacking legs."

"I bet if we tried, you could dance," Smokescreen grinned. "You've got a lot of movement in that frame that we couldn't hope to pull off. Might even make good credits on stage once you get good at it. You could put on a show, on _your_ terms."

The half-serpent's scales rippled. "Something to ponder. Once I figure out just how I could possibly dance, flexible frame or not."

"We can talk about it more in your room, where there is space to try things out," Smokescreen suggested.

"Only if you want to," Bluestreak insisted.

"It's something to try." Idarassi nodded, taking another sip of his energon. "That's for later, though. For now I'll just watch."

"This club does have great people watching," Smokescreen nodded.

"And if anyone gives you trouble, the bouncers are here to protect you," Bluestreak added. "If you can, dart behind the bar until help comes. Not that I really expect trouble, but it pays to be ready for the unlikely."

"Always better to be safe than sorry," Idarassi agreed. "I will remember that." Adjusting his position, he watched the dancers with interest, his upper frame absently swaying slightly to the music.

He didn't miss that both his companions smiled at him, or the happy contentment laced with excitement in Bluestreak's field. They all sat in silence for a while, sipping energon and people watching before the beat got to be too much for Bluestreak to ignore.

"I'll be back in a while," he promised as he stood to head for the dance floor below.

"I will be here," Idarassi replied, leaning lightly against the railing and watching as the Praxian descended to the dance floor. His tail continued to sway to the music, tucked under the table to keep from accidentally hitting anyone. He watched as Bluestreak smoothly joined the mass of gyrating frames, moving from dance partner to partner without difficulty or apparent care.

"This is the only place that seems busy enough to stop his vocalizer," Smokescreen commented randomly with a sip of energon. "Down there you'd never know how painfully shy he was as a sparkling."

Audial panels pricking up, Idarassi turned his attention to Smokescreen. "He was shy?" He turned to look at Bluestreak for a moment. "He certainly doesn't show it."

"The chatter's all that's left. The more nervous he gets, the faster he talks," Smokescreen chuckled. "But yes, he was very shy those first dozen or so vorns."

The half-serpent was silent for a moment as he digested that. "That would explain some of the rapid-fire chatter I've heard from time to time... I have to admit I was wondering how anyone could talk that fast without their vocalizer glitching." Yellow optics flicked toward movement on the catwalk nearby, spotting a large, relatively heavily-built Praxian trying to discreetly move in their direction. He stopped with a scowl once he realized he'd been spotted.

The shift in Idarassi's focus drew Smokescreen's attention to the large Praxian. He snorted through his vents. "Rapidfire. Your basic high-mass, low-processor bully."

Idarassi lifted an optic rim. "He seems unable to make up his processor whether to continue in this direction or back off now that he's been spotted."

"Typical, especially now that he can see you're bigger than he is," Smokescreen smirked and cast another glance at the bane of his youngling vorns. "Like most bullies, he's a coward when pushed."

That got a chuckle from the half-serpent. "Let's hope he doesn't find some long-buried courage chip or something. I'd rather not have to deal with idiots right now." He continued to watch Rapidfire until the Praxian backed off, glowering back at him.

Smokescreen snickered in his energon. "Here's hoping that your presence will keep him away from Blue. Mech still bothers him too often."

Patterned scales puffed out at that, the idle swishing of the half-serpent's tail pausing. "He still picks at Blue?"

"Yes," Smokescreen sighed. "Not really when he's with family or friends, but Blue is old enough to go out on his own regularly when he feels like it."

"Then I certainly hope I'll be able to keep him at bay, since I'll be with Blue when he goes out." Idarassi shifted, his coils sliding over themselves. "If he gets too bold I should be able to scare him off without actually causing any damage."

"He doesn't take much to scare, just like he doesn't tend to do much damage," Smokescreen agreed. "Blue's safe enough here; we know a lot of mecha here, but you'll be with Blue when we aren't. I'm glad you accepted that contract. Much as I hate to admit it, sometimes Blue needs a guardian."

"I'll keep an optic on him," the half-serpent replied, nodding. Settling back, he looked down at the dancers below.


	6. Proving a Point

**From the Shadows 05: Proving a Point**  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ =================== ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Entering the Praxian Science Academy was an unsettling experience for Idarassi despite three decaorns of intense socialization to individuals and large groups alike. Even out here where it looked normal, he could pick up the smells and tastes that mean _laboratory_.

"It'll be okay," Bluestreak reassured him with voice and field, and the now-familiar hand on the scales at the beginning of his snake body. "They're not going to hurt you. Just look at stuff and run non-invasive testing."

A nervous hiss escaped Idarassi, his scales and armor plating flattening to his frame. Under Bluestreak's hand a shiver ran through the powerful coils. The half-serpent had never been able to associate anything pleasant with laboratories.

"I know that this is necessary, but I have only bad memories of labs. This is not going to be easy for me at all," Idarassi responded, his hissing accent more pronounced than usual.

"I'll be there, and I have a right to stop it," Bluestreak reminded him, trying to reassure as they made their way to the mecha life studies area. "If it's too much, just say so."

Idarassi trembled faintly from helm to tailtip. "I just want to get this over with," he mumbled, slowing down slightly. His clawed hands flexed nervously as he gathered himself. Bluestreak ended up a few steps ahead of him when the reached the research lab's doors.

The gray mechling poked his helm in. "Skyfire, Starscream?"

"Ah, Bluestreak, come in," a warm voice called back. "Is Idarassi with you?"

"Yep," he grinned before glancing over his shoulder to make sure it was still true.

The serpent-mech slid in, settling into a tight curl just inside the doors. Visibly nervous yellow optics flitted around the lab, taking in everything that was in sight. It looked uncomfortably like his creator's old lab, but there were enough differences to keep him from bolting. Finally, his attention turned to the other two mecha in the lab. One was an absolute giant of a flier, mostly white with some red and warm blue optics. The other was a sleek red, white and blue Seeker with sharp red optics.

"Ida, this is Skyfire and Starscream," Bluestreak introduced everyone. "They're going to run the tests that prove you're a mech."

"The tests will prove what they prove," the Seeker correctly sharply. "We are scientists. Our results are not bought."

"Star, the mechling didn't mean that and you know it," Skyfire tweaked his much smaller companion's wingtip. "Never mind his temper. He's having a ... stressful ... few orns."

"That's okay," Bluestreak said easily before he hopped onto a stool out of the way to watch.

"Please come here, Idarassi," Skyfire knelt to bring their optics on level and offered his hand. "None of these tests should cause any pain."

Idarassi reared up, lifting himself more to the white flier's height, reaching out slowly to take the offered hand. "It is... good... to meet you," he said finally, though the hesitation and the nervousness were clear in his voice. He glanced at Starscream, then leaned forward, glossa darting out to flick against Skyfire's armor.

"Hush you," Skyfire said sternly to Starscream before looking at Idarassi. "Would I be correct that your glossa is more advanced than most?"

"Full of very sensitive chemoreceptors. I can taste scent, and the sensor cluster in the roof of my mouth ensures that my sense of smell is many times sharper than the average mecha. My glossa is more sensitive than my nasal passages are," the half-serpent replied. Wary yellow optics watched Starscream. "I do that to learn someone's scent."

"Fascinating," Skyfire said.

"Fine, fine," Starscream muttered and held his hand out. "I probably scent a bit off from normal."

"Since I don't know what 'normal' is for you, I might not be able to tell," Idarassi managed to retort, leaning forward to flick his glossa against Starscream's hand. That done, he settled into a loose coil, scales rippling nervously from where mech became serpent to the end of his tail.

"You'll know him long enough to find out," Skyfire chuckled. "Unfortunately his manner doesn't improve much. First I'd like to confirm that you have a spark. Without that it doesn't matter what the rest of the resting says, you can't be listed as a mecha."

The half-serpent nodded shortly, glancing around the lab again. "Where do you want me?" There was nervousness wrapping around the hiss in his speech, and his field was making it quite clear that that lab was giving him the surges.

"There is fine," Skyfire said gently as he brought out a hand held spark scanner. "Just expose your spark for a moment and we'll get it over with."

The serpent-mech nodded once, settling back on his tail. His chestplates reluctantly opened to reveal the light bluish-purple spark flaring and pulsing within its crystalline prison. Clawed hands flexed nervously on air as Idarassi waited. The device was brought close and Skyfire hummed and trilled as the readings were taken.

"You can close your armor now," Skyfire smiled at him. "That should be as invasive as we get."

Gray chestplate practically snapped closed, Idarassi sliding back out of reflex before catching himself and easing back into place. The half-serpent drew in a long intake of air, holding it for a moment before x-venting slowly. "Now what?"

Starscream stepped away to get up some equipment, but Skyfire remained kneeling as he drew a bite-sized energon wafer from subspace. "Treats tend to make things easier," he offered it to Idarassi.

"He's just a bit softie," Starscream scoffed.

"They work on you," warm blue optics twinkled with mischief.

There was a moment of hesitation, then Idarassi carefully accepted the wafer. He examined it thoroughly, glossa flicking across it to get an idea of what it consisted of before he actually committed to eating it. That was as good as a shouted confession that someone had either tried to poison or sedate him with something similar, long ago.

"I told them what you like," Bluestreak spoke up, his wings twitching in agitation. "They really do just want you to be more comfortable during the testing."

"It's true," Starscream turned around from what he was doing. "We operate under _rules_ here. Because you are fully verbal you're under the same consent requirements as a mecha. We can't do anything you don't agree to let us do first."

Idarassi vented heavily. "I've never had any good experiences with labs. It's deeply-engrained wariness, and that you can blame on the mech who built me. I am trying, I really am. Otherwise you'd never get me out from under the tables."

"Is there anything we can do to make it better for you?" Skyfire offered, his field making it a genuine one.

"Aside from doing this outside of a lab, not much." The half-serpent inhaled deeply. "Let's just get this over with."

The scientists exchanged looks.

"It would take longer, but we _could_ do the testing in Starscream's apartment," Skyfire offered. "It's not a lab, but we can bring the equipment we'll need there, one test at a time."

The half-serpent swayed from side to side ever so slightly, trying his to balance his desire to get out of the lab, a place that held only painful memories for him, with the desire to get the testing done and over with. Uncertainty flickered through his field, following the nervous shifting of scales.

"You don't have to face your fears right now," Bluestreak got off the stool and came close, wrapping his field around Idarassi when he hugged him. "How much longer are you talking?" he looked at Skyfire.

The shuttle hummed thoughtfully. "Perhaps a vorn instead of eight metacycles. The sequence to prove sentience is extensive."

Coils shifted to loop loosely around Bluestreak, wrapping him to the waist in patterned gray scales. Idarassi's field was thick with nervousness and a deeply-ingrained fear despite his best efforts to keep it under control. "This is going to be more difficult than I thought," the serpent-mech murmured, voice trembling.

"We'll do it elsewhere," Bluestreak made the choice for him.

"Does flying bother you?" Skyfire asked gently.

That distracted Idarassi from his nervousness. Yellow optics cycled several times as he looked at the shuttleformer. "I've never been off the ground, so I wouldn't know. I've always envied fliers, though." One clawtip hovered over Bluestreak's sensor wing, but didn't quite touch.

"Well, then we'll just have to find out," Skyfire said as he stood. "Let's go outside so I can transform."

Idarassi's coils shifted, lifting Bluestreak onto his back rather than just letting go. The mechling squealed in excitement and giggled as he settled, wrapping his arms around Idarassi's mech torso as the half-serpent followed Skyfire outside. He paused when the giant folded into an even more impressive high-speed interstellar shuttle, then opened his cargo bay ramp.

"Come in," Skyfire said cheerfully while Starscream secured some equipment.

The serpent-mech eased up the ramp, pausing at the top before gliding all the way in. The rippling of his underbody scales against the deck of Skyfire's shuttle form was a new and different sensation, the edges of the large scales hooking onto the tiniest of edges and seams to pull the half-serpent forward. Idarassi's glossa was going a mile a minute as he settled into a loose coil, his field pulsing curiously against the field he was now surrounded by. That field pulsed back with just as much curiosity.

"All secured," Starscream said as he walked out to launch himself into the sky before transforming.

"Ready?" Skyfire asked as he closed the ramp and locked it for flight.

"Ready," Idarassi replied, looking around to see if there were any viewports or windows and realized there were none. "As ready as I'll ever be, anyway."

"Just happy to be out of a lab?" Skyfire said cheerfully as his engines powered up and he began to move forward, then up and forward as he took to the air.

"_Very_," was the emphatic response. A shudder rattled Idarassi's scales. "There are nothing but bad memories and old pain associated with labs for me. The scientist who built me... was not a nice mech in any sense of the word."

"Perhaps we can try to work on that. Once our studies are done, there are three more teams that must repeat them to avoid the implication of a payoff or blackmail screwing the results," Skyfire sighed. "I really don't understand why the government makes it so difficult. We _should_ be allowed to confirm what you are with a check that you have a spark and complexity scan of your OS. That can be done in a couple breems, with full results the next orn. But no, we have to put you through so much more."

Idarassi managed a shaky chuckle, settling down and curling his tailtip around Bluestreak's ankle. "Since when has the government made anything easy for anyone?"

"Never," Skyfire chuckled ruefully as he settled into cruising altitude. "They hate change with a passion."

"I've never really had much experience with politics... I've lived under the radar for vorns. But I've heard many mecha complaining about it." The end of Idarassi's glossa poked out, the twin tips wiggling slightly.

"It's a universal truth. Either you're got it all and you like politics, or politics is the cause of all ills in the universe," Skyfire said. "I don't believe it's that simple, but politics doesn't do many mecha any good."

"Not something I ever want to get sucked into." The half-serpent nodded. Yellow optics dimmed ever so slightly as he shifted position and settled in for the ride that turned out to be a full groon long before they began a sharp decent.

"Have you ever been to Vos?" Skyfire broke the long silence.

"If I have, it was with the freak show, which meant I only got to see the mecha who came to the show but not the city itself." The half-serpent thought for a moment. "I think I was there once or twice, but that was a while ago. I remember being envious of all the wings."

"Well this time you'll be seeing it from the Royal Tower," Skyfire told them, causing Bluestreak to stiffen with a gasp of shock. "Starscream is fourth generation descendant of the Winglord."

A startled hiss escaped the serpent-mech, and he just stared at the closest bulkhead in lieu of Skyfire's face. "Truly? You're serious?"

"Yes, he is a Royal of Vos," Skyfire confirmed as he angled in for a landing. "He's a scientist first. All his lineage brings him is the credits to follow his passions."

Idarassi's upper half swayed back and forth as he wrapped his processor around that. "I knew my existence was going to get interesting when I was rescued from that freak show, but I had no idea just how interesting it would get. Or how many new mecha I was going to meet."

"Oh yes, I have no doubt it'll be most interesting," Skyfire chuckled as he set down on the landing balcony of Starscream's apartment and lowered the ramp. "Don't be surprised if a couple other Seekers drop in. The black one is a teleporter, Skywarp. The blue one is Thundercracker. They're his trine-mates."

The half-serpent snorted. "If one pops out of nowhere it's going to be difficult _not_ to be surprised. I've heard of teleporters, but I've never seen one. Or, at least, I've never actually seen one teleporting." He slid slowly down the ramp, optics flitting about, taking in all there was to see. Easing around Skyfire's frame, he looked out over the city, glossa out and flicking, tasting the air.

It was colder up here, and the air much thinner. Though they weren't on the top floor of the Royal Tower that dominated the floating city, they were still well above everything else that wasn't actively flying. He could see the marked similarities between Vos and Praxus, but there were definite differences too. Praxus was, ultimately, a grounder's city. Vos barely bothered to acknowledge that grounders served a purpose.

"It's amazing," Bluestreak breathed in amazement. "I've been here, but never so far up."

"Incredible," Idarassi murmured, still gazing out over the city. "Never seen anything like this before. But then, there is a _lot_ I've never seen before." Fearlessly he leaned part of his frame out over the edge of the balcony, curling his tail around a handy support. The fact that he was able to hold his body out straight and actually lift himself higher over thin air hinted at just how much power lurked in his coils.

"The strength to mass ratio that requires..." Starscream murmured, his optics locked on the sight of Idarassi doing what looked physically impossible. Skyfire was similarly fixated.

It took a moment before Idarassi noticed their stares. "I was built for power... I'm a constrictor-type, based on organic life-forms that used pure strength to bring down prey larger than they themselves were. Otherwise I'd be more lightly built but extremely venomous." He settled back onto the balcony, moving over toward them.

"Venomous?" Bluestreak cycled his optics. "Why would any ... right, he was a sick nut job."

"Interesting," Starscream flicked his wings with a motion that was far more than mild curiosity. "Who was your creator?"

"His designation was Firewire, out near the Sonic Canyons. He'd been kicked out of the mainstream scientific community because of his complete lack of morals or ethics. When I escaped, he was trying to create a powerful toxin for a venomous model. I remember seeing his notes and designs. But then his lab exploded before he actually ever got to build any of them." Idarassi's scales ruffled, puffing out and resettling.

"How certain are you that he is deactivated?" Starscream was now very interested, while Skyfire was too disturbed to contemplate talking.

"I caught the news broadcast after the lab explosion, and I recognized the parts of his frame that hadn't been blown apart. Which was pretty much everything from the waist joint up. After all he put me through, I knew very well what he looked like." Clawed fingers flexed. "He must have been leaning over the lab table when whatever he was working on exploded. Good slagging riddance."

"Agreed," both fliers settled.

"Do you know why he built you, and then tried to build a venomous one?" Skyfire asked uneasily.

The half-serpent's hiss had a distinct edge to it. "Because he could. He wanted to see if he could build something that moved and behaved like an organic. He was playing Primus. I know I'm not the first he built. But only one of his other tries succeeded, and he escaped long before I was built."

"We're not going to be looking for him..." Skyfire tried to be reassuring.

"But if he contacts you after news of your mech-status case, we'll sponsor him too," Bluestreak broke in.

"Do you know where he got the sparks from?" Starscream asked, his wings twitching uneasily as he motioned Idarassi to settle next to the equipment from the lab.

"I'm really not sure," Idarassi admitted. "But I suspect he might have been continuing his experiments on sparks, taking a spark from one frame and putting it into another." His helpless shrug rippled all the way along his frame. He eased over to the piece of equipment, watching Starscream with wary curiosity.

"If yours came from a known mecha, do you want to know?" Skyfire asked gently while Starscream connected a thick data cable to the box like piece of hardware.

"Dataport," Starscream said as he faced Idarassi with the other end of the cable in hand.

Idarassi took a moment to ponder that. "I'm not sure. Maybe." He made a face, then twisted around, shifting synthetic fibers out of the way to expose the port at the base of his helm, just under the hairline.

"That's a new one," Starscream commented to himself as the cover slid open under pressure rather than by command. "I can fix that in a couple kliks when we're done downloading your files."

"It's not broken." There was acid in Idarassi's voice, but it wasn't directed at Starscream. "Firewire designed it so that I can't seal it. Kept me from keeping him from hacking my processors."

Both scientists went still for a moment as Bluestreak came up to hug Idarassi in support. Starscream recovered first, after some sputtering of outrage.

"You don't even have the protocols?" the Seeker nearly screeched.

The half-serpent turned his helm just enough to fix one green-flecked optic on Starscream. "Why would that fragger who built me want to give me _anything_ that would stop him from taking advantage of me any time he wanted?"

Thick triangular wings flexed and shivered in outrage as bright red optics flared. "He's lucky he's deactivated," the Seeker hissed.

Skyfire shuddered and closed his optics for a brief moment. "I think we're going to want to schedule another doctor." He looked over at his partner as the Seeker got control of himself.

"Yes. Yes, I'll make arrangements. Ratchet is the best. He'll do more than fix you, he'll bring you up to code," Starscream nodded. "Even mechanimals have rights."

"Firewire clearly didn't get that memo. I was just an experiment to him, a _thing_, less even than a mechanimal." Idarassi's coils tightened slightly. "Whatever it takes to make sure no one can do that to me again."

"Ratchet's as moral as they come when it comes to medical ethics," Skyfire said, watching the code analyzer's download status. "He'll do everything he can to fix what that monster did to you."

"I'm sure some of what Firewire did to me, I'm not even aware of myself," the serpent-mech grunted, shifting slightly and grimacing faintly at the feeling of the analyzer going through his coding. "Mostly what I was aware of was the physical. Especially when he started taking me apart to test something without bothering to turn my sensor net or pain receptors off first."

The Seeker hissed and twitched in impotent fury enough that it drew the thunder of powerful engines down from the sky as a medium blue Seeker with red trim soared into the room from the open balcony and transformed mid-landing.

"It's just sick, discredited scientists," Starscream hissed at his trinemate.

Idarassi turned as much as he could to regard the newcomer, glossa flickering out to catch a scent. Careful of the cable plugged into the back of his helm, he shifted for a better look. "That's... Thundercracker, is it?"

"Yes," Skyfire nodded.

"Yes, who are you?" the new Seeker was only a couple fingers taller than Starscream, but seemed much larger with his deep voice and slightly wider wingspan.

"Idarassi, though I also answer to Ida. Starscream and Skyfire are testing me for sentience." The half-serpent indicated the cable plugged into his neck. "We're here because I don't do labs well at all."

"Firewire is worse than reported," Starscream growled.

Thundercracker simply groaned. "Finish your testing," he sighed as he turned to leave. "You can rant to me later."

"At least the fragger is deactivated and can't hurt anyone else." Idarassi settled down, leaning into Bluestreak while waiting for the code analyzer to finish.


	7. Post-Op with Ratchet

**From the Shadows 06: Post-Op with Ratchet**  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ =================== ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ratchet let out a deep x-vent. The strangest surgery in his history had ended the orn before, a process that was more discovery and retrofit than actual repair. The patient had been in excellent repair, but as Starscream had warned there was a lot that needed fixing. Half of which the patient wasn't even aware of.

Now it was time to handle the hard part in this case; the post-op briefing.

Settling himself and his presentation in his processor, the medic opened the door to the private room and took in the sight of his most unusual patient to date. While the berth was oversized for the room, at least it hadn't been a special order. After getting the measurements and mass, and assurances that the patient preferred to sleep coiled up, they'd been relieved to realize that a convoy-class berth would handle him.

"How are you feeling?" Ratchet asked as the door closed behind him.

Yellow optics flecked with green regarded him. "Distinctly odd. I have new programs integrating, and it feels very weird." Idarassi shifted, flopping across his own coils to watch the medic but not stirring otherwise.

"Have they produced any errors or unpleasant feelings?" Ratchet asked as he pulled the corner chair over to sit within arm's reach of him.

Idarassi paused for a moment, running a quick scan. "No errors, nothing I would call unpleasant. Just... odd. These new programs will keep anyone else from hacking me?"

"At least from doing so easily," Ratchet nodded. "There are always mecha that can break a firewall, but what we installed will keep you safe from most bugs, viruses and attempted hacking. They are few and you aren't the kind of target they bother with."

"Considering how unprotected I was before, to have some protection feels very good. I don't ever want anyone to use me the way Firewire did." Scales rippled along the length of his frame. "Never again."

Ratchet pulled two cubes of high grade from his subspace and offered one to Idarassi. "Speaking of that ... I hope you know that he was an aberration. Most mecha aren't like him, even if most aren't as nice as Bluestreak either."

The half-serpent shuddered. "I certainly hope most mecha aren't like Firewire. He was a sick mech, and Cybertron is better off without him." He accepted the cube, taking a sip.

"While you don't have to tell me, I do have to ask you if there is anything he did to you that you haven't told Bluestreak or Starscream," Ratchet took a solid drink of his own cube. He hated this part of abuse cases.

Idarassi blinked at him. "As I told Blue and Starscream, I'm not sure of the extent of what Firewire did to my coding. Physically, it was rather hard to see what he was doing when I was strapped or chained to a table."

Ratchet hesitated, then took another drink of the high grade. "I'm talking about forcing you to interface."

The serpent-mech paused in mid-sip to give Ratchet a strange look. "Firewire never touched me that way. I was just an experiment to him, and too much an animal. No one at the freak show ever dared."

"Ah," the medic nodded and relaxed. "At least that's one set of traumas you didn't have to deal with then. Count your blessings on that. As bad as it was, it could have been much worse."

The response was an emphatic nod from the half-serpent. "To Firewire I was both a thing and an animal; to the freak show staff I was too dangerous and too valuable. No one ever wanted to get near me that way."

"That said, don't shut yourself off from the option," he smiled softly. "It's a very fun pastime."

"So I've figured out, from Blue. But I've never experienced it myself, so someone will have to teach me, and I doubt it works quite the same way for me considering my frame." Idarassi indicated his distinct lack of lower limbs.

"Your parts are quite normal, and in the normal place for a mecha," Ratchet made a general motion to where mech met serpent on Idarassi's frame. "There's always a learning curve when you first start. At least with your spike you should have most of the normal options. Your valve is only accessible when your partner is facing you, but it's not that serious a limitation. I know there are at least two mecha inclined to teach you when you want to learn."

Audial panels twitched under Idarassi's blue-streaked black synthetic mane. "I'm not sure when that will be, though."

"What is your reservation?" Ratchet asked gently.

"Complete and total cluelessness," Idarassi answered, ruffling his scales. "And the fact that I've been pretty much conditioned to associate touches with pain. Though exposure to Bluestreak is helping with that."

"The first is no reason to avoid pleasure," Ratchet said firmly. "The second ... as long as you're working on disassociating touch with pain, that can be a very good reason. Though you might find it worth the effort to explore yourself. Your own touch can feel just as good as a lover, and it might take some of that cluelessness out."

"I'll remember that." Idarassi nodded, inclining his helm. "As long as I don't damage myself by accident." He splayed his fingers, indicating the curved claws tipping them.

"You would be amazed how difficult that it," Ratchet chuckled. "You do have full interfacing protocols, we checked. They'll prevent you from accidentally hurting yourself with your claws, just as they'll prevent you from hurting yourself by gripping too strongly or pulling your hand the wrong way. The systems are designed to bring pleasure, so there are basic safeguards in the protocols to prevent self-harm by accident."

"I was completely unaware of that." The half-serpent looked a bit sheepish. "Just proves exactly how clueless I am. There's going to be a lot of trial and error involved."

"That can be a great deal of fun," Ratchet grinned. "Give me a call if you want to play with someone bigger than Bluestreak."

"Might not be for a while, but I'll remember." Finishing his cube, Idarassi slowly began to uncoil, easing to the floor to test out his balance.

"I doubt my inclination will change," Ratchet chuckled and stood. "I'm always up for a new party. How are you feeling?"

"Almost finished integrating the new programs and the repairs, but it'll feel weird until I get used to them being there." Idarassi started to rear back, lifting himself toward the ceiling, but thought the better of it when he wobbled, lowering himself back to the floor. As aware of the reaction of those around him was, he didn't miss how unphased Ratchet was by the move.

"Given your mass and energy storage, that should not have been enough high grade to make you woozy," Ratchet's expression was of concern as he stood up to move closer. "What errors did you just get?"

"Recalibrating. My main processor is still sorting through the programs you installed, and it's throwing off the secondary, which controls movement and deals with sensory input. The signals are getting backed up." The half-serpent settled into a loose ball within easy reach of the medic.

"Okay," he nodded. "That's longer than I would have liked, but given how complex your processor and control systems are, I'm not that surprised. You have a lot more going on than the average mecha."

"Average mecha don't read vibrations through the ground like datapads or see in infra-red most of the time. And they generally don't have to be constantly adjusting their own strength to avoid crushing anything by accident." The serpent-mech chuckled slightly. "Skyfire and Starscream were both astonished by just how strong I am, and I was just stretching over the edge of a balcony."

"I heard about that," Ratchet grinned. "I'm sure it was stunning to see. Having seen inside your frame, I'm not going to be surprised."

"Most mecha are. I'm constantly calibrating how much strength I exert, so I don't hurt anyone. The few times I've had to hurt other mecha, when I was caught by the freak show owner, the results were not pretty." Patterned coils tightened, pulling into a compact ball.

"I can very easily imagine," Ratchet nodded. "I'm glad you aren't one of those who like hurting others, though you could probably make a fortune in the arenas if you did."

Idarassi shuddered from helm to tailtip, the rattling of his scales echoing in the room. "I hate even the thought of hurting anyone. Only if I feel my own existence is in danger would I contemplate it."

"That is an excellent set of morals to have," Ratchet reached out to pat Idarassi's shoulder. "How's your calibration going?"

"Just about done, I think." Coils unwrapped as Idarassi carefully stretched out again, rearing back and up until his helm almost brushed the ceiling, supporting most of his fame with a loop of tail. "Much clearer than my processor was a breem ago."

"Good," Ratchet was genuinely pleased. "Bluestreak is here, if you feel up to seeing him now."

"Yes, please." The big mech settled back into a loose coil, nodding.


	8. Coming Home

**From the Shadows 07: Coming Home**  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ =================== ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Idarassi let out a shiver of relief when he followed a happily chattering Bluestreak into the mechling's quarters and found his favorite spot loosely coiled and resting against a low couch like the one in his room. A duplicate that had been ordered when Bluestreak realized, much to his delight, that Idarassi spent a lot of time hanging out with him even in the house where it wasn't required. He'd had his berth reinforced as well, so Idarassi could lounge there without worry.

It was no surprise when Bluestreak flopped down on the low couch to snuggle into Idarassi's coils, his field warm and happy in the safety he felt there.

The half-serpent adjusted his own position slightly, settling his upper half closer to the Praxian. His field reached out to brush against Bluestreak's, and air hissed from all Idarassi's vents as he finally began to relax. Necessary or not, he wasn't the fondest of mecha about medbays, though he was better with medical bays than laboratories. Leaning his helm against the side of the couch, the half-serpent gazed out the window, watching flying mecha moving in and out of view.

"It must feel a lot better not to have vulnerable systems," Bluestreak rambled, probably for the fourth or fifth time.

"It feels a lot better," Idarassi replied, not minding the repetitive rambling. "Now I shouldn't have to worry about someone hacking me. That _hurts_. I'd rather not go through that again." Scales shifted closer to Bluestreak and felt the Praxian give a contented sound as he settled even closer.

One hand reached out to stroke the scales Bluestreak found so fascinating and pleasant to pet. "It's nice to know you're safe too. Ratchet means that you'll end up with the full three hundred vorn commitment, but I didn't get the feeling that you are in much of a hurry to get out of here. Not like some we've taken on that want to get back to the existence they had before as fast as possible."

That got a full-frame shudder, Idarassi's side pressing into Bluestreak's hand. "I want nothing to do with my old existence. I was either a scientist's experiment of a freak show master's pet attraction. At the moment I have nowhere to go, and I know I'm not ready to try and go it alone yet. There's still so much to learn."

"I'm glad you're not out to leave soon," Bluestreak said warmly. "I like having you here."

"I like being here." The serpent-mech smiled at the smaller Praxian, relaxing again. "It's different from anywhere else I've ever been, and it's safe."

"Good," Bluestreak trilled, his engine purring. "I hope you consider staying after your contract is up. I know we can find _some_ position for you, if you decide you want it."

"I doubt I'll ever be in much hurry to leave. With nowhere else to go and other mecha looking at me like I'm some dangerous, wild beast, finding a new place would be difficult." Lazily, Idarassi shifted his upper half and part of his long tail, turning onto his back. Bluestreak followed the movement, rolling to lounge on top of Idarassi.

"Ratchet indicated that you've never interfaced," Bluestreak said, his field a mix of excited and cautious.

Idarassi shook his helm. "No, I never have. Firewire only thought of me as a thing to be experimented on, and the freak show staff avoided me as dangerous. I have the parts, but they've never been used." He gestured vaguely toward the large, roughly hexagonal scale right where mech became serpent.

"It's a _very_ nice part of existence," Bluestreak smiled and scooted up Idarassi's frame enough to lightly brush their lips together.

A hum of surprise escaped the larger mech. The tips of his forked glossa flicked against Bluestreak's lips. "Not one I've ever experienced before... It will take some experimenting."

"Doc said your parts were like mine," Bluestreak smiled, giggling at the sensation of Idarassi's glossa against his lips. "I've got a pretty good idea how to make it feel good for you, if you want me to."

"He did say my parts were normal, and he did point out to me that I should give it a try. You know a lot more about it than I do, though." Feeling a bit playful, Idarassi flicked the tips of his glossa against Bluestreak's cheek. The mechling was in a good mood and tasted of it. There was also a faint taste of the smell he had when one of his friends was with him for pleasure.

Bluestreak kissed Idarassi again, more fully this time, and extended his field to interlace with Idarassi's.

The half-serpent's field pulsed briefly against Bluestreak's, then threaded into it, slowly merging. Awkwardly, Idarassi returned the kiss, his manner that one of someone not sure he's doing it right. Cautiously, one hand lifted to skim over Bluestreak's plating.

"Practice makes perfect," Bluestreak smiled as he went for a third kiss. His field offered Idarassi the pleasure his touch generated as the Praxian trailed his hand down Idarassi's side.

A hissing purr, or maybe a purring hiss, was the response. Once he was sure his hand wasn't going to be swatted away, Idarassi eased it up higher, toward one sensor wing. He'd always been fascinated by the wings of fliers, and the sensor wings of the grounded Praxians intrigued him just as much.

"Those feel _really_ good," Bluestreak grinned and wiggled his wings. "Really sensor heavy," he murmured as his fingers found, then traced the hexagonal scale over Idarassi's interfacing parts.

The wiggling seemed to attract the cautious hand to the appendages. Light clawtips skimmed over their surfaces, light enough to feel while keeping the sharp tips from causing any damage. Air gusted from Idarassi's vents in surprise at the touch to that large scale. It felt good, that touch.

Bluestreak moaned softly at the touch to his wings and stroked his fingers over the big scale once more.

Under Bluestreak's hand the scale quivered, then split in half and folded back, all but disappearing under Idarassi's plating, exposing the half-serpent's spike housing and the valve under it. A faint, nervous shiver ran through Idarassi's coils. Light fingers stroked over Bluestreak's wing again, claws ever so gently tracing the leading edges.

"It'll only feel good, I promise," Bluestreak murmured into another kiss before he wiggled his way down Idarassi's frame. With anticipation in his field he lowered his helm to kiss the spike housing.

A sharp gasp answered that move, a strong shiver running through the half-serpent's frame. Wide yellow optics stared down at Bluestreak in surprise. He had not expected that, or for it to feel that good.

A warm smiled beamed up at him before Bluestreak extended his glossa to trail a sensitive path around, and then across the housing, pausing to tease the tip of the spike inside.

Yellow optics flared brighter as totally new sensations ran through his sensor net. His coils twitched, scales ruffling slightly as he tried to process this new input. Never before had he ever felt anything like it. Trying to get his mental pedes back under him, Idarassi tried to say something, but all that came out was a garbled mass of syllables.

"Feels good, doesn't it," Bluestreak trilled happily "Now you get why I enjoy it so much." With that he lowered his helm again to work his glossa around the spike housing, trying to coax it to come out.

"Sssstarting to get an idea of why," Idarassi managed to gasp out, unable to concentrate on keeping the hiss out of his speech. He squirmed slightly, though not hard enough to dislodge the Praxian. His claws scraped lightly against his own scales and the edge of the couch as he flailed a bit. "Ooh!"

Bluestreak's field flared with excitement when he heard the click of the housing unlock and gave a hard suck on it, trying to draw the spike out.

Idarassi's frame shivered again as his spike finally slid out of hiding. It was patterned to match his scales, with almost delicate spots of color, and etched with a scale pattern. The half-serpent garbled something unintelligible, venting heavily as his spike disappeared into Bluestreak's mouth, the warm slickness sending an entirely new maelstrom of sensation through his frame.

A loop of coil curled around Bluestreak's midsection, Idarassi ruthlessly locking down his own strength to avoid hurting the smaller mech. He stared blindly at the ceiling, scales and plating puffed out, venting heat from every seam and air vent. A ripple ran through his body, his spike pressing deeper into Bluestreak's mouth. He hissed and cried out as his spike was worked by that mouth and glossa, until Bluestreak gently pulled his helm back.

"I want to ride you," Bluestreak moaned, his frame quivering in anticipation.

The half-serpent made a hissing whine as Bluestreak released his spike, blinking at the smaller mech. It took a moment for his scattered processor to comprehend what Bluestreak had said, then his field pulsed with cautious agreement. Strong coils loosened their grip on the young mech, allowing him to move.

With a shiver of excitement Bluestreak moved to straddle what passed for Idarassi's hips, really just the point where mech frame met serpent, and carefully lowered himself onto that unique looking spike.

Idarassi drew in a sharp breath as his spike slid into the wet heat of Bluestreak's valve. Clawed hands landed on the Praxian's hips, clawtips just lightly pricking at the delicate hip mechanisms. A shuddering, hissing cry was wrung from him at the feel of Bluestreak's valve against the sensitive length of his spike, his frame rippling, pressing his spike in deeper.

"Oh _yeah_," Bluestreak moaned, his wings fluttering in his pleasure. He rippled his valve along the length filling him, then lifted himself up until they were almost separated before sinking down again.

The feel of Bluestreak's valve rippling against his spike drew out a hissing moan and a blast of hot air. Idarassi's hands tightened on Bluestreak's hips, his fingers catching in the circuitry, though he retained just enough processor space to keep from clawing anything sensitive or delicate. There would be a few interesting scratches on the gyros and rotators, though. His frame rippled again, arching up to meet Bluestreak as the Praxian descended back onto the serpent-mech's spike.

"You got the idea," Bluestreak encouraged him before repeating the motion of lifting himself up.

Idarassi's field flared, trying to impress upon the smaller mech just how _good_ it felt. Settling into a rhythm took a little time and some effort to get his processor to cooperate, but finally he managed it, his long lower half rippling like waves across a body of liquid. At some point another coil of his frame curled around Bluestreak's midsection, over the big mech's hands, the end of his tail curling around the Praxian's thigh with the tip very close to Bluestreak's own spike housing.

"Oh!" Bluestreak gasped at being almost encased in his lover. "Oh _wow_." He quivered and flared his field as he picked up the pace, his pleasure hot and growing fast.

It took the half-serpent a klik to scrape up the coordination to match his pace to his partner's. Strong coils flexed around the smaller mech's frame, though never hard enough to actually cause any damage. His hands kneaded Bluestreak's hips, yellow optics flaring nearly white as charge began to nip and sizzle along his sensor net.

"I'm all yours," Bluestreak keened, his valve still working the spike sliding in and out but his frame going completely submissive, giving all control of the pace to his lover.

There was a bit of fumbling before Idarassi resumed his pace, his coils lifting and lowering the Praxian in time with each rippling thrust. Unwrapping from Bluestreak's thigh, the tip of the half-serpent's tail slid up to slide along the edge of one sensor wing, poking lightly and teasingly at the sensors. Charge continued to build, occasionally visible as a flicker of current running under patterned scales.

Bluestreak moaned and shivered, his pleasure and arousal pouring from him through his field to encourage the mecha thrusting into him. He'd never been restrained like this, almost as fully wrapped inside the mecha he was with as the spike was inside him. It felt insanely good. Not good enough that he'd overload before his lover, but oh, when Idarassi had a little endurance to him, this was going to be processor blowing.

The exploring tailtip continued to slide over Bluestreak's sensor wings, tip poking at every seam and sensor. Idarassi worked his fingers a little deeper into the smaller mech's hip joints, the tips of his claws brushing over the inner pivot points and gyros. Hot air almost blasted from the half-serpent's vents as he surrendered to the demands of his frame, picking up the pace.

"So good. You're so good," Bluestreak moaned, tightening the calipers in his valve rhythmically around that wonderful spike as it slid across sensors. "Want to feel your hot transfluid rush into me. Want to feel your overload," he encouraged.

Idarassi's entire frame stiffened, his back arching at an angle that would have damaged the spinal struts of an ordinary mecha. A hissing keen escaped as transfluid exploded from his spike into Bluestreak's valve. Charge raced over his frame, leaping from flared plate to flared scale, creating a netlike pattern of current along his tail. As soon as his frame unlocked, the half-serpent collapsed, his coils loosening their grip on Bluestreak.

"That felt so amazing," the Praxian shivered and leaned forward, his hands braced against Idarassi's lower chest as he began to roll his hips, seeking that last bit of stimulation he needed. As Idarassi recovered enough to watch, Bluestreak keened and stiffened, his valve tightening around the still-pressurized spike inside him while energy tore through his systems in a moment of pure bliss.

"I can ssssee why you're sssso fond of that," the half-serpent slurred, his hissing accent especially pronounced. His entire frame was practically completely limp. Slightly glazed yellow optics blinked at Bluestreak as the Praxian sank down from his overload to sprawl, strutless, on top of Idarassi.

"Good," Bluestreak purred, warm, content and still tingling. "So glad you enjoy this. I've never felt anything like being wrapped in your coils while you overloaded. That was _amazing_."

"It definitely dessservesss sssome more experimentation," Idarassi agreed. "Once I get my breath back, anyway..." He shifted his tail, scales rasping gently against Bluestreak's armor. "I didn't hurt you, did I? I wasn't sure if I was keeping from squeezing too hard."

"You did great," he patted the nearest bit of his lover. "Not hurt at all. Believe me, I'll squawk and fuss if you did. A little loving restraint can get me pretty hot," he babbled happily. "I like to tease my brother about it, but we do have that kink in common. He just likes it harsher than I do. But you ... _wow_ ... I mean, that was better than anything I've felt."

Idarassi let out a relieved x-vent. "At least I kept from hurting you. But then, I have more practice at controlling my own strength than I do at interfacing."

"It should be in the interfacing protocols too," he nuzzled lazily. "Keeping the important things under control when you can't think about it. You're really strong, but most mecha could really hurt a lover if they completely lost control when they overloaded. Mecha have been doing this for a long time. The protocols are well-developed to make it work out for everybody."

That got the half-serpent to relax completely, returning the nuzzle. One hand ran lightly over Bluestreak's back, between his sensor wings. "I had no idea there was that much to the protocols. I'm completely new at this."

"Nobody really thinks about it much, I don't think," Bluestreak purred and pressed into the touch. "But not many are so self-aware of how easily they can hurt others. I wouldn't know, but I get bored easily and started poking at the actual coding one orn."

Idarassi shuddered from helm to tailtip. "I'm only too aware of how easily I can hurt another mecha. When the ringmaster captured me I was trying to defend myself, and I ended up killing some of his trappers. It was... not pretty." Yellow optics dimmed. "I don't want to do that again, either deliberately or by accident."

"I hope you never have to make that choice again," Bluestreak hugged him. "I'm sorry you had to be captured, but it meant we met."

"And it means I'm now somewhere much better than I was before." Idarassi returned the hug with arms and a loop of tail.


	9. Breaking Into Hell

**From the Shadows 08: Breaking Into Hell**  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ =================== ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Idarassi had, for some reason known only to him, chosen to sleep in Bluestreak's room, loosely curled next to the young Praxian. It had become something of a habit. Bluestreak liked it when he didn't have other company. They'd both been deeply into recharge when something woke the serpent-mech. The instincts that had been programmed into him, that went with his animal appearance, were screaming at him that something was not right.

Sliding off the berth, Idarassi pressed his frame against the floor, glossa out and flicking.

There was a mecha moving through the home. Not one of the pedefalls he knew either. This one was moving slowly, carefully, not at all like Prowl or Darksky when they came home late at night.

Yellow optics narrowed. There was an intruder. In _his territory_. Venting a long, low hiss, he looked at Bluestreak, then slid quietly out of the room. His flickering glossa caught traces of a strange scent. Keeping low to the floor, Idarassi began moving, heading toward the lift to the lower level. It opened smoothly for him and took him down to the public rooms.

As soon as the lift opened Idarassi slid out and behind the first object large enough to use as cover. Flattering himself against the floor, he dimmed the glow of his optics, shifting fully to infra-red. Tasting the air, he set about tracking the intruder. To his senses, it was a simple process. The intruder was being silent, but did nothing to hide his heat or the vibrations that normal mecha could not pick up.

In the grand dining hall where Starbright held her balls, social dinners and galas, he saw a normal sized Praxian mech move about, carefully inspecting objects.

The half-serpent kept low to the floor, having long since figured out that staying below the average mecha's line-of-sight would allow him to go unnoticed just a little bit longer. His upper half hovering just high enough above the floor to keep his plating from scraping against it, Idarassi stalked the strange mech, sidling into striking distance. Every move was careful and precise.

His prey never noticed he was closing in.

Idarassi slowly circled around behind his prey, pulling in his tail and drawing up into a striking pose, ready to launch himself forward. He glared at the bright infrared shape of the strange mech, glossa poking out and flicking slowly.

A long, dangerous-sounding hiss echoed through the dining hall, the intruder's first warning that he wasn't as alone as he thought and the intruder jumped, reaching for a blaster as he twisted to face the sound.

The serpent-mech gave the intruder one brief instant to spot the silhouette and the glowing yellow optics glaring at him before launching himself forward, letting out a hissing shriek that was pretty much guaranteed to wake everyone else in the residence. Astonishingly fast for his size, Idarassi had his coils wrapped around the stranger before the intruder could get off more than two shots, leaving sear marks across patterned scales. A few nanokliks later, Idarassi had the intruder firmly in his grip, held tightly enough to keep him immobile but not actually damage him, glaring at him optic-to-optic.

He could taste the shock and fear in the intruder's scent, feel it in the field against his.

The first to arrive was the family cook, having the quarters closest to the hall. The mech had come running with a blaster in hand, but froze, uncertain how to take the sight of a mech he didn't know held tightly in the coils of a houseguest in the now well lit grand dining hall.

Prowl was the next to arrive, his sire only a step behind him.

The younger Praxian, his storm colored plating suiting his apparent mood well as he stalked forward. "And who might you be?"

The black mech managed a sneer at Prowl. "Wouldn't you like to know."

"He was sneaking around poking at things when I detected him," Idarassi reported, armor and scales puffed up, flexing his claws. He was using his intimidating appearance for all it was worth. His coils shifted slightly, bringing his captive closer to Prowl.

"Then we have you for breaking and entering, since you were not invited in," Prowl said calmly, blandly, as his sire watched with a glint of approval in his optics. "The Enforcers have been called. They will make sure you have nothing in your subspace or frame that doesn't belong there." His gaze shifted to Idarassi. "Good job noticing and capturing him."

"Being able to feel a mech walking has its advantages." Idarassi inclined his helm to Prowl, tightening his coils ever so slightly when Override opened his mouth to swear.

"Let _go_ of me!" The black Praxian tried to struggle but only managed to twitch, the one sensor wing not pinned by the half-serpent's coils flailing wildly.

"You are less likely to be injured if you remain still," Prowl observed mildly as he watched. "I am sure it does, as does your ability to move so quietly and well below optic level in the dark."

His words were interrupted by Bluestreak's rush to hug Idarassi. "You're a hero," he squealed. "I was so scared when I heard that sound and then you weren't there. I thought maybe you'd been hurt bad."

"I believe Idarassi is quite capable of defending himself," Prowl said with a touch of amusement.

Scowling, cursing his ill luck, Override subsided. There had to be some way out of this. He tried shifting his arms, only to feel raw power wrapped in metal scales pinning him in place. Yellow optics narrowed at him.

Ignoring the random wisps of smoke rising from one scale damaged by Override's blaster fire, Idarassi turned his attention to Bluestreak, returning the hug without shifting his grip on the intruder one micrometer. "I could sense him moving around... I wanted to get him before his attention went from objects to living mecha. He never saw me coming."

"That's amazing," Bluestreak babbled, grinning madly at his friend. "We've never had an intruder before. I'm so glad you got him before he did anything."

Prowl chuckled at his younger brother and turned to the lift. "I will see the Enforcers in when they arrive."

"I'm not letting go of this creep till they get here, stasis cuffs in hand," Idarassi called after him, getting an indignant squawk from his captive.

"Who do you think you're calling a 'creep'?" Override tried to glare, only to nearly shrink back at the narrow-opticked glare and the warning hiss aimed his way.

"You," Bluestreak answered for Idarassi. "You're the creep. You sneak into our house, try to take from us, and you got caught."

"What he said." Idarassi flicked his glossa out, getting a disgusted look from the captive mecha. "You picked the wrong home to break into, and you're going to pay the price for it."

A few kliks later Prowl arrived with two Enforcers in their classic black and white paint, mirrored visors and matching two-panel sensor wings. The pair visibly startled at how the intruder was being restrained but quickly got down to business.

Override snarled at the sight of the Enforcers, glaring hate at Idarassi. The serpent-mech only smirked at him.

"I don't think you'll be squirming out of this one, Override," one of the Enforcers smirked at him, then shifted his attention to Idarassi before glancing at Prowl. "If you'll tell him to let go, we'll take charge of the prisoner."

Prowl didn't bother to correct them. Legally, it was the correct procedure to have an owner give orders to a mechanimal or slave, or even a servant. "You can hand him over, Idarassi."

"Nope, he won't be squirming out of this," the half-serpent replied casually, shifting closer to the Enforcers and beginning to uncurl. He maintained his hold on Override's legs until the Enforcers had a firm hold of him and secured him with stasis cuffs, then proceeded to loosely loop two coils around Bluestreak and settle next to the youngest Praxian. Bluestreak purred and leaned in, affection and pride radiating from him.

"If you would detail what happened for the report," one Enforcer faced Idarassi. "We will need statements from each of you, if you would remain in the house."

"Of course, officer," Starbright inclined her helm politely before herding the three resident servants towards the kitchen to get refreshments for everyone.

The half-serpent nodded. "Of course, Officer." Easing closer to Bluestreak, he settled in to give his report.


	10. The Ruins of a World

**Into the Light 01: The Ruins of a World**  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ =================== ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Idarassi hissed to himself, optics glowing brightly in the darkness as he clawed his way through the debris piled over the tunnel entrance. He had been digging for what felt like orns but was probably only a few joors, since the shaking and the sounds of buildings crashing down had ceased.

It had been obvious for quite some time that a war had been brewing. Praxus had held itself neutral, supporting neither side, and had hoped the city would be passed over. But it had not. The attack had been sudden and brutal.

The half-serpent had been in the Darksky residence with Bluestreak when the building had been hit. Instinct had told Idarassi that it would be safer underground. He had tried to take Bluestreak with him, to keep him safe, but falling debris had separated them. Idarassi had tried to go back, to reach Bluestreak, but then the building had given way. He'd had no choice but to run, diving underground at the first opening he found, and going as deep as he could. There he had waited, curled into a tight knot of worry, until the shaking stopped. Only then did he begin fighting his way back to the surface, clawing the rubble out of his way, forcing his coils through the smallest of openings, heading ever upward.

Finally, his flickering glossa detected fresh air. With one last push, he broke through onto the surface, pausing for a moment to listen before pulling himself slowly out into the open. After waiting in a tight, wary coil for several breems, just in case, he made his way to the highest vantage point he could find, rearing up as high as he could and just staring at the sight that spread out before him.

Praxus was gone.

Simply ... gone.

Wiped out of existence.

When the smoldering subsided, it would look like little more than the badlands Idarassi had once called home. Nothing more than two levels high still stood.

It was all gone.

Scales rippled and flattened against the half-serpent's frame as the wind brought the stench of burnt metal to him. Under it he could taste the scent of spilled fluids. There was no movement he could see, aside from the scavengers trickling in from outside to feed on the deactivated.

Somewhere off to the side a shattered wall toppled, the sound jolting Idarassi from his shock. He checked his positioning system, trying to figure out where he was in relation to the building he'd been in when the attack had begun.

To his utter horror he realized that he was looking at it. The pile of rubble not two levels tall had been the tower he'd called home.

A hissing cry of alarm escaped his vocalizer. Idarassi launched himself forward, clawing at the rubble. He poked into every crevice he could find, glossa flicking, trying to find a familiar scent. Smaller chunks of wreckage went flying while larger pieces rolled down the sides of the pile as the half-serpent dug, looking for anyone he'd known who might be trapped in the fallen tower.

Bodies. Gray frame after gray frame.

Starbright, or what was left of her crushed remains, was the last thing he found before he felt the rumbling of many heavy vehicles and the thunder of jet engines approaching.

Idarassi wailed in loss as he stared at what remained of the femme. One trembling claw reached out to gently run over crushed, grayed armor. He was about to return to his digging when he heard the sound of many mecha approaching.

For the barest of instants he froze. Then instinct kicked in, informing him that it might be the attackers returning. Idarassi whipped around, streaking back to the hole he had emerged from and diving in. In half a klik he was out of sight, retreating underground to safety. The shaking and explosions never resumed, but the mecha did not leave either. Large numbers of them continued to move about above Idarassi's hiding place through the day, the night, for orns they remained.

He hadn't felt this hungry in a very, very long time. Or this alone. He'd been with the family for centuries, long past his contract. He'd seen Bluestreak, Prowl and Jazz all into their adult frames. The careful words that Prowl and Jazz might bond. He'd watched Bluestreak catch the optic of many a mecha, some for the night, some for vorns, but none connected to him well enough to be more than a casual affair. Always the bright, warm Praxian returned to snuggle him. He saw the smiles and the concern in Starbright and Darksky, but never did they say a word against it.

He was family as much as Jazz was.

The half-serpent curled up tightly, burying his upper half in his own coils. He didn't like this loneliness. It had been so long since he'd been on his own, with no one else to talk to or simply be near. A soft whimpering sound escaped him as he waited for whoever was overhead to leave, trying to figure out where he could go, if there was anyplace for him to go to. His only home was in ruins, his family maybe deactivated. He had nowhere else.

His tanks pinged him, asking to be filled. He ignored them, having nothing to consume. Maybe when the mecha left he could find some energon in the ruins.

Three orns bled into four, then five, then six, and finally the mecha moved away.

By the time they were finally gone, Idarassi had settled into energy conservation mode, powering down to save what energon he had left. It took him several joors to register the silence from above and boot back up again. Uncurling, he made his way back to the surface, shoving aside the new deposits of rubble that had been piled over the hole he'd made. He stayed out of sight for a breem, just listening, every sensor alert. As soon as he was certain he was alone, he eased out of the hole, tasting the air as he began poking through the ruins. There had to be some energon buried where most other mecha couldn't reach.

He subspaced or consumed every scrap he found as he searched for Bluestreak and Darksky. The strangers had moved Starbright, moved everything. They'd made a thorough search, but weren't after energon. Among the rumble was a dented but largely intact box of one of Prowl's prize possessions; an ancient and beautifully crafted game of City Towers.

Gentle claws ran over the box. Idarassi remembered how Prowl had taught him to play, vorns ago. The half-serpent gripped the box for a long moment, then subspaced it.

Most of the treasures the family had owned had been destroyed when the building had collapsed, but every now and then one turned up intact. These Idarassi carefully stored in his subspace, hoping to find a survivor of the family to return them to. But with every passing orn the likelihood of finding a survivor grew smaller.


	11. A Light in the Darkness

**Into the Light 02: A Light in the Darkness**  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ =================== ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jazz groaned as he flopped onto a lounge chair, not even bothering to haul himself to the washrack. His assistant would be in soon to ensure he didn't recharge in his show finish. Two vorns in and he was definitely not used to being without Prowl. He hated that his lover was half a world away in Iacon, training to be a tactician for the army. No, he didn't hate what Prowl was doing, he hated Prowl being away. But Prowl had convinced him that after the attack that leveled Praxus the good of putting the world back to rights was greater than the good of them remaining close.

So Prowl was off in Iacon, studying all sorts of things that turned his fuel tanks, and Jazz was on the road almost non-stop performing for troops and civilians alike to keep morale up. He wasn't the most famous performer doing it, but he was popular enough to get top billing more often than not.

This time though, his comm was going nuts. He turned it off when he was going on stage so he wouldn't be distracted and expected a half a dozen messages at most.

Instead he got someone, broadcasting without an ID, trying to reach him almost non-stop. As wary as it made him, the next ping was opened.

::Who is this?:: he demanded evenly.

::Jazz? Is that you?:: The voice that responded was very familiar, laced with a hissing accent and a tendency to draw out the soft syllables more than typical. Behind the voice was the sound of something metal sliding over metal, an equally familiar rasping sound. It was a sound Jazz had not heard since before Praxus fell.

::Ida?:: Jazz spoke out loud in his shock, drawing the attention of his assistant as he walked in. ::Where _are_ you?::

::Still in the ruins of Praxus. I took shelter underground during the attack. Blue and I were separated when the tower fell.:: There was pain in the half-serpent's voice.

::He was found by the Autobots. He's seriously traumatized, but alive. Smokey's alive too. I can't say the same for Star and DS. They were confirmed deactivated. Blue misses you terribly,:: Jazz added softly.

::I found what remained of Star when I myself was digging through the rubble.:: There was a pause. ::Blue is alive? Where is he?:: Scales could be heard rasping against scales as Idarassi shifted position. ::Please, tell me where he is!::

::In Iacon, with Prowl,:: Jazz answered without hesitation. ::He's going to be _so_ happy to hear from you, hear that you're still functioning. Not even three hundred survivors were found, and most of them didn't make it long enough to be repaired.::

Idarassi was silent for a moment. ::I have enough supplies to make the trip to Iacon, though it will take me a while. I'm not the fastest of mecha when it comes to covering great distances. In all the journey will take me roughly a decaorn, more or less, depending on any obstacles I encounter between here and there.::

::Or stay put and they can get you,:: Jazz suggested. ::News of another survivor in Praxus would get enough attention for a transport.::

The hiss that came over the commline clearly indicated the serpent-mech's opinion of that. ::No strangers. Unless Blue or Prowl is with them.::

::All right. Calm down,:: Jazz backpedaled quickly, afraid of losing contact. ::If you can make it to Iacon, do you still have Prowl's comm? I doubt he can get enough time off to come get you in Praxus, but he could meet you outside Iacon, so you don't have to navigate the city alone.::

::I have the comm frequency he used before Praxus was attacked. Has he changed it in the last couple vorns?:: Idarassi audibly relaxed a bit at that. ::Having someone who knows me to guide me through Iacon would be helpful, since Iacon is not used to me.::

Jazz relaxed with a relieved sound. ::He keeps an audio on his original, just in case someone tries to contact him, like you contacted me. Speaking of ... why not try to ping Blue?::

::I'll go through my memory banks for Blue's comm frequency... I think I've only used it maybe once or twice in all the time I lived with him. Since he and I were together so much, I didn't have much reason to use it before, so I've all but forgotten it.:: There was a sheepish note in the half-serpent's voice. ::It actually took me a while to remember that I have an internal comm, but it was damaged in the attack. This is salvaged equipment I'm using.::

::Which explains the no ID with your ping,:: Jazz chuckled. ::I hope that thing is portable enough to bring with you, so you can contact Prowl. I'll tell him to tell Blue that you're alive and on your way when we talk next. In 9 joors or so.::

::I think I have enough room in my subspace to stash this ... It was an Enforcer's portable comm unit. Due to its current condition I'd rather not carry it physically on me. But in subspace it should keep well enough.:: Idarassi could be heard moving again, metal shifting under his scales. ::I'll head for Iacon as soon as we finish talking. The sooner I get started, the sooner I'll get there.::

::Make sure you have enough energon, and be careful. The inter-city roads aren't very safe,:: Jazz advised.

::A full tank will last me orns; I don't have to refuel every orn. What I've salvaged from the ruins should see me to Iacon. I doubt I'll be using the roads, though. With no alt mode or wheels, there's no real point. I can go cross-country.:: The half-serpent hissed softly. ::Thank you for helping me, Jazz.::

::Anytime, Ida,:: he smiled softly. ::Take care of yourself. I'll let them know you're coming.::

::I hope to see you again, too, sometime,:: Idarassi replied. ::Again, thank you.::

With that, the connection terminated.

SxSxSxSxSxSxSxSx S===================S SxSxSxSxSxSxSxS

Idarassi pulled himself into a loose ball, remaining under cover, regarding the city in front of him. He could see the activity surrounding it, could smell the scent of weapons carried on the wind.

The journey to Iacon had taken him just over a decaorn. The path had not been easy. Several times the half-serpent had hunkered down and trusted in his camouflaging colors to hide him from flyovers, preferring to hide from everyone rather than let a mecha of the wrong faction spot him. Other times he had thanked Primus for his ability to climb in places other mecha would have had a very hard time with. His scales were scratched and covered with the grime of the trip, hiding most of his patterns and wedging into some uncomfortable places.

But he had made it.

Making short work of one of the energon cubes he'd brought with him from the wreckage of Praxus, he brought out the comm unit he'd managed to salvage. It had taken the journey well, despite the jury-rigging that had been done in order to get it functional again. Inhaling deeply, almost coughing at the reek of burnt metal, Idarassi input Prowl's old comm frequency and tried to establish contact.

::This is Prowl,:: the familiar voice replied almost instantly, but Idarassi couldn't help but feel that it had changed a great deal in two short vorns, and not for the better. ::Who are you?::

::It's Ida,:: the half-serpent replied, allowing a bit more hiss into his voice. As far as he knew he was the only mecha on Cybertron who sounded like that, so it was effective as an identifier. ::It's good to hear your voice, Prowl.::

::It is good to hear you as well,:: Prowl responded, allowing Idarassi to pick out one change; he'd taken on the elite speech patterns of his carrier. ::Jazz told me that you would be coming. Bluestreak was very happy to learn you had survived. Where are you now?::

::I'm just outside the city.:: Idarassi quickly rattled off his coordinates. ::Not keen on getting any closer without someone to vouch for me; I'd rather not get shot. Praxus was used to me. Iacon isn't.::

::Agreed,:: Prowl responded. ::I will be on the road nearest to your location in two groons and three breems.:: He closed the connection before Idarassi could respond.

Idarassi nodded, checking for the nearest road and making his way toward it, staying low and under cover to keep out of sight. Once he was into a spot where he could see the road and anyone driving along it, he settled down to wait, arranging himself in a loose coil and doing his best impression of a chunk of debris. It was one of those times he was grateful that most mecha didn't have the visual protocols to pick out a non-standard form from the background.

Two groons and two breems of waiting and he finally saw a pair of familiar alt modes coming from the city. Prowl was right on time, and Bluestreak was at his side.

Yellow optics lit up. Uncurling, Idarassi eased out into the open, where the pair would be able to see him clearly. He glanced once toward the city, then turned his full attention to the pair of Praxians approaching his position. Once they were close enough, he let out a hissing trill, a greeting call.

Bluestreak bolted forward, transforming without slowing down much to launch himself into a hug. "Ida!" he squealed shamelessly, his entire frame shaking with a mixture of joy, relief and deeply resonant grief. "It's been so long. I thought you were gone. Everyone thought you were gone. Then you commed Jazz. Why not me? Why so long? How'd you survive?" his words ran together far worse than usual.

Idarassi caught Bluestreak, swaying backward slightly as the smaller Praxian landed on him. "I'm sorry for not contacting you, Blue," the half-serpent murmured, hugging Bluestreak tightly. "I survived by going underground and waiting until everything was over before resurfacing, but my internal comm was damaged, so I couldn't contact anyone. I didn't know anyone had survived until I managed to repair a comm unit enough to catch news broadcasts and heard Jazz's designation. Since I rarely ever had to use your comm frequency, I'm not even certain I remember it." The serpent-mech sounded distinctly sheepish when he admitted that.

"That's okay, you survived, and so did we. Smokey's around somewhere, but I don't see him much. Don't see Prowl much either," he glanced at his brother as the older mech transformed and stepped to the side of the road, even though there was no point to it. "He's working really hard to stop the monsters that destroyed our home. Maybe we can go back, when he's done," he focused back on Idarassi.

Prowl made a sharp shake of his helm as his wings faintly flared in something resembling a mild startle.

"Two vorns and he's already an officer and in the Prime's tactical unit," Bluestreak continued without noticing. "I always knew he was smart, but that's just unheard of."

"It is war. Unheard of things happen regularly in war." Prowl spoke with a cold lack of emotion, interrupting his brother without either of them seeming to care. "Bluestreak speaks almost non-stop. Simply interrupt by talking. It is the only way to get a word in."

"I do, I'm sorry. It was so quiet, staring up at sire's dark optics until they found me. I didn't like it quiet before, but I can't stand it now," he babbled on, shaking slightly.

"We should return," Prowl said firmly. "The medic was not pleased when I took him from their custody. I had to promise to return him within the joor."

"I can understand why you don't like the quiet," Idarassi put in, easing out onto the road and nodding at Prowl, giving the older Praxian a long look. He'd never been this stiff and formal, or this closed off, in all the centuries that Idarassi had known him. "I spent two vorns totally alone in the ruins of Praxus. I don't like it much, either. It's been... a very long time since I was that alone." Without releasing Bluestreak, the half-serpent glided slowly down the road toward Iacon, keeping his pace to something Prowl could match on pede. "I'm not as fast as you are in alt mode, though," he reminded Prowl.

"I will tell the medics we will be late returning," Prowl responded, watching as his brother settled just behind Idarassi's mech frame and hugging on tightly. For the first time in over two vorns, the mech was quiet and no longer trembling. "When they see that, they will not care how long it takes to return him."

Idarassi nodded, looking ahead toward Iacon. He kept his pace even, matching Prowl's.

It was easy to tell when the mecha swarming around Iacon caught sight of them. There was a pause, taking in the distinctly non-standard frame, then a small swarm came out to intercept them. There was a mixture of curiosity and aggression there, but those with obvious weapons took Prowl's presence as clearance for the strange mecha and little challenge was given.

Prowl though, was becoming visibly agitated at the crowd, something that had never bothered him before. His field snapped with the kind of aggression Idarassi knew meant the Praxian felt cornered and directly threatened, but why was far less obvious.

The half-serpent looked at the mecha, glossa flicking out, doing his best to keep his frame language non-threatening and as neutral as possible, angling himself to shield the younger Praxian clinging to his back. Sensing the agitation in Prowl's field, Idarassi turned to give the older Praxian a curious look, raising an optic rim.

"It is nothing," Prowl insisted as he gathered himself to present the manner that had cleared his way so many times in the past and strode into the city, clearing the way for Idarassi and his brother. It wasn't long before he led them along slightly less populated streets, always angling towards the northeastern side of the city and the primary military base there.

"Something is bothering you," Idarassi replied. He eyed the older Praxian for a moment, then decided to let the subject drop, knowing that trying to pry things out of Prowl was an exercise in futility unless Prowl actually wanted to talk about it.

The half-serpent took in what he could see of the city. He had been here once before, to see the medic Ratchet after the testing to determine his sentience had begun, but that had been centuries ago and he'd only ever seen the medical facilities. He chose to ignore the startled and wary looks he was getting, long used to being stared at.

"I am simply not fond of being crowded," Prowl replied when no one was around. "No one here respects wings."

"Understandable," the half-serpent replied, nodding. Having lived for so long around Praxians, he was well aware of the do's and don'ts of wings and sensor wings. A mecha as private as Prowl was far more disturbed than one like Bluestreak of random touching by those without a clue.

All three remain relatively silent, Bluestreak only mumbling wordlessly now and then against Idarassi's back. It was only when they reached the entrance to the base that things picked up again. Idarassi listened attentively as Prowl got clearance to bring him inside, something that sounded more pre-arranged than on the spot, then followed the elder Praxian through far less crowded halls towards medical.

"This isn't where you were before, but Ratchet does shifts now and then," Prowl told him. "He's interested in seeing you again."

Idarassi hummed softly, his plating vibrating against Bluestreak's. "Ratchet will probably give me an audioful at the condition I'm in, too." He looked down at himself, at the scratches and gouges on his scales left by crawling through a ruined city, the coat of grime that dulled his colors, and the visible bits of debris poking out here and there.

"Given what you survived, he may not," Prowl said thoughtfully. "Of the two hundred and eighty two that were found functioning, only thirty-nine still function. A fortieth is to be celebrated, even if you aren't from Praxus originally. Only a dozen of our frametype have made it. Many could not cope with the loss of city, mate and family at once. If we could have gone to Vos, it may have been better, but the Seekers, Vos, led the attack," Prowl only barely controlled the tremor in his voice and wings. "They went far beyond simply disowning us."

"Most of my existence was spent in Praxus; I wouldn't mind counting myself as the most unusual Praxian on Cybertron." Idarassi winced at the rest of Prowl's comment. "Why would they attack Praxus? I don't understand." One clawed hand lifted, though the half-serpent hesitated to touch Prowl. He withdrew his hand when Prowl reflexively flinched away from the touch.

"They've sided with the Decepticons against the Prime," Prowl answered as they entered the medbay. "Nightshift?" Prowl called out, drawing a lightly armored medic of soft creams from a back room.

Mouth open as if to speak, Nightshift stopped and stared. Not at Idarassi, but at the content-looking, _quiet_ Bluestreak on his back.

"You were correct, Prowl," he regarded the elder Praxian. "That is very much worth it."

"Nightshift, this is Idarassi. Nightshift is the psych-med specialist assigned to the Praxians who can not function independently yet."

The half-serpent inclined his helm to Nightshift, offering one hand. "Good to meet you, Nightshift." Long coils shifted, the end of his tail coming up to gently rub between Bluestreak's sensor wings, causing the younger mech to all but melt. "You can call me Ida; it's less of a mouthful than my full designation can be."

"As you wish, Ida," Nightshift agreed, watching Bluestreak with utter fascination. "Has he always been like this with you?"

"I've been Blue's companion and protector for centuries, ever since he rescued me from slavery in a traveling freak show. He and I have been very close since that orn. Once I had adjusted to being touched, it was perfectly normal to find him deep in recharge cuddled into my side or even half buried in my coils. I was in his room far more often than I was ever in my own." Idarassi continued to rub Bluestreak's back, humming softly to the younger Praxian.

It actually earned a soft look from Prowl, something that was noticed with distinct interest by Nightshift.

"I believe that's as deep in recharge as I've witnessed him," the medic said with a warm smile. "If you don't mind waiting to wash up until he comes around on his own, it would be good for him."

"I've waited this long, a few more joors won't hurt," the serpent-mech replied, nodding. "Just point me to an out-of-the-way spot where we can settle, where no one will trip over me."

"This way. He has a private room of sorts," Nightshift paused. "You don't have any issues sharing space with mechanimals ... and not eating them ... do you?"

Idarassi snorted. "I eat nothing but processed, cubed energon. I'm a sparked mech, not an animal, despite appearances. Over the vorns I've shared living space with more than a few other critters, and I've never had any problems with them." He followed the cream-colored medic, glancing around curiously, glossa flickering out to capture the scents lingering in the air.

"I didn't mean to insult," Nightshift said swiftly. "It's just that he has several small pets loose in the room and I really don't want to have him lose one," he explained before opening the door.

"I'm not insulted. It's something I'm used to." The half-serpent eased through the door, coils flat against the floor so nothing could scurry under him without being noticed. Moving carefully, Idarassi made his way to a clear space, shooing small creatures out of the way to avoid harming any of them. Once in place, he settled into a loose curl, one loop of tail draped lightly over Bluestreak. Resting his chin on crossed wrists, the serpent-mech let out a deep sigh, dimming his optics.

"Would you like some energon before recharge?" Nightshift asked with a soft smile as two domestic petro-rabbits stuck their noses out from under the berth.

"I refueled just before I called Prowl to let him know I'd reached Iacon," Idarassi replied. "My tanks are full; I won't need to refuel again for about four orns. The offer is appreciated, though. Right now I just want to sleep and relax in the presence of my family."

"Then recharge well," Nightshift smiled. "If Bluestreak begins to scream or thrash, try to wake him. Help will arrive quickly. I hope not to see you until late morning."

"I will," was the reply, Idarassi waving one hand to indicate he understood.

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Several orns had passed since Idarassi's arrival in Iacon. He was cleaner than he'd been in a couple vorns, all the damage he'd taken in the fall of Praxus repaired. He certainly felt better than he had since his adopted home city had been destroyed. And best of all, he was back with his family.

Most of the half-serpent's time was spent with Bluestreak, who was usually practically welded to Idarassi's plating. Idarassi didn't mind at all; he'd seen how traumatized the young Praxian was, and he had never minded the contact once he'd gotten used to it. The medics were all relieved by the positive effects the serpent-mech's presence had on the small gray mech.

Right now, though, it was the elder of the siblings who was on Idarassi's mind. The last time Prowl had visited, something had smelled... off. Idarassi's sensitive glossa had detected the scent of a stranger on the storm-colored Praxian's plating, a scent that did not belong to Jazz. Prowl had not wanted to talk about it, but it had gotten Idarassi's hackles, and his scales, up.

Bluestreak was in one of his therapy sessions, leaving Idarassi free for a couple joors. Taking the time to get out of the small rooms and stretch, he began tracking on Prowl, following a faint whiff of the older sibling's scent. When the scent began growing stronger, he knew he was getting close. He felt more than heard the thud of a mech being pushed against a wall hard, then the unmistakable scraping rasp of sensor wings struggling against a wall.

Scales rippled the length of Idarassi's frame. Letting out a low hiss, he picked up the pace, swarming down the corridor. Other mechs scurried out of his way, staring at the strange creature as he darted past. Flowing around a corner, the half-serpent took in the scene before him. A mech a good half again Prowl's mass had the Praxian pinned to the wall and was almost faceplate to faceplate with him.

Prowl trembled slightly being going lax and accepted being shoved to his knees as the big mech released his spike.

A dangerous-sounding hiss warned both that there was someone else there. A moment later there was a blur of gray and spots, and a resonant _clang_ of metal meeting metal at speed. The larger mech ended up imbedded in the far wall, his side bearing an impressive dent and a clear scale pattern.

"Ida?" Prowl looked up as he remained on his knees, his wings pulled in and optics dull, still a bit dazed and slightly confused.

The big half-serpent was drawn into a striking posture, optics narrow and glittering as he glared at the mech he'd swatted aside. That look was a far cry from his normal gentle giant demeanor. After a moment, he twisted around to look at Prowl. "That would explain why I smelled strange mecha on you."

"Yes," Prowl answered as he got to his pedes, staring at the groaning mech who'd attacked him. "The social rules are very different in the army. I'm not yet skilled enough to be left alone." He paused and looked at Idarassi. "I would prefer if you did not tell Bluestreak. Civilians do not face this. He has enough to focus on without worrying about something he can do nothing to prevent."

A loop of scaled frame curled loosely around Prowl. Idarassi was very clearly radiating the aura of "touch and regret it" to all and sundry, and the exchange had gathered quite a crowd. The half-serpent ground his dentas, then nodded. "I won't tell Blue, no matter how much I hate keeping secrets from him."

Prowl actually relaxed inside the coil, something he may well not have done even in Praxus. "I will not ask you to lie if he asks. Just do not bring it up."

Idarassi nodded again, then reared back until his helm almost brushed the ceiling, giving the gathered crowd a warning glare. "I would strongly advise all of you, and everyone else in this complex, to keep their hands, and other frame parts, to themselves. I can and will track you down, and you will regret it."

There was a general uneasy shifting, several glances between Idarassi, Prowl and the warrior who was now pulling himself out of the wall. Death glared at Idarassi from the injured warrior, but no one moved to challenge the serpent-mech.

The serpent-mech returned the glare, feigning a bared-claw strike at the other mech, forcing him to back off. Hissing softly, Idarassi settled back, another loop curling around Prowl. Over a klik everyone moved off, recognizing that the show was over.

"Thank you," Prowl rested a hand on the serpent's scales where Bluestreak so often had. "It may not stop them all, but it will stop most."

Utter relief, almost to the point of being ready to break down, caressed Idarassi's field from Prowl's.

"You are welcome." His forked glossa flicked out, just brushing the tip of Prowl's chevron. "You're family, and I protect my family."

Prowl managed a weak, shaky smile as he looked up. "I will try to remember that. I have had to be the protector. Of Blue, Jazz, even Smokey," he suddenly dropped his carrier's speak patterns as he leaned close. "I can out-smart them, but not out fight. Not yet. I've needed this," he whispered as he tried to pull himself together.

"I've got your back until you've learned the skill to fight them off," Idarassi murmured. "One orn, no one will dare touch you in any way you don't like." Carefully, willing to pull back if Prowl became uncomfortable, the half-serpent gave the older of the Praxian siblings a light hug.

It was accepted briefly, then Prowl seemed to finish gathering himself. "How long do you have until Bluestreak needs you?"

Idarassi checked his chrono. "Another joor and a half. It's one of his longer therapy sessions. The doc kicked me out for it." Respectful of Prowl's dignity, the serpent-mech released him, though he didn't uncurl just yet.

"Would you care to come to my quarters for energon and to catch up?" Prowl offered, uncertain but willing to take the risk, much as he had with Jazz so many vorns before.

"I'd be glad to," the bigger mech replied, smiling. His coils loosened, allowing Prowl to step out of the encircling scales. "There's quite a bit to catch up on, I think."

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Bluestreak snuggled against Idarassi's coils in their room, his field full of affection, gratitude and a calmness that still amazed the coding doctors. Even Bluestreak's babbling would settle in Idarassi's presence to a level close to before Praxus fell.

The two petro-rabbits and cyber-kitten that had kept Bluestreak company before the serpent-mech arrived were snuggled together nearby, all three now well-used to Idarassi's presence and relaxed around him. For the serpent-mech, it was a wonderful sensation. He was home again; cared for, cared about and safe. It was everything he wanted in existence.

"Prowl's getting closer to you, you know," Bluestreak started to talk, his tone one of actually having something to say, rather than filling the silence he still couldn't stand well. "It's really nice to feel him relax, even if it's just a little bit. He's been so wound up since he enlisted. I know he's hurting, but he won't talk to me about it. You make him feel better though, you know?"

"Prowl and I are getting closer," the half-serpent agreed. "The poor mech needs to relax. His new life is not an easy one, and combined with his need to protect you, it's enough to give him a glitch."

"I never wanted to be a burden," Bluestreak mourned. "I never was before. But what I know isn't useful here, and I can't keep quiet even when I should. I hate it. I _can_ work. I just don't know how to do anything useful."

A clawed hand stroked lightly over Bluestreak's arm. "You're not a burden, Blue. You've been hurt, and that trauma is not easy to heal. Once you are ready, there is so much you can learn here. You can be anything you want."

Blue leaned into the touch and his lover's frame. "I still feel so useless," he murmured, only to force himself to leave the thought. "But the doc said that if I continue to improve like this, I can move out of ICU next decaorn. I think he means that _we_ still have to live together. Not like I'd want anything else."

"And I would refuse to live apart from you." Idarassi's upper half shifted closer. "I was away from you for two vorns. Never again." The half-serpent's voice had a core of steel to it as he said that.

"Never willingly," Bluestreak agreed, hugging him tightly. "Unless it's because Prowl needs you," he added firmly. "If Prowl needs you, you go to him. He can end this nightmare of a war. Once he's no longer a soldier we can rebuild the family business. I know we can. Just doing some side trading Prowl's making very good credits."

"I still won't be away from you for too long." The serpent-mech returned the hug, stroking Bluestreak's back, between his sensor wings. Yellow optics dimmed slightly. "I'm so glad to be back with you, and with Prowl. I missed both of you so very much."

"We missed you too," he purred, snuggling into the welcome contact. "I was so happy to hear that you'd survived. I guess all those vorns on your own were useful. I doubt any of us had the skills to manage. I think Prowl does now, even if he doesn't want to talk about it. Does he talk about the unhappy stuff to you?"

"Some of it, yes," Idarassi answered. "He needs someone to confide in, to help balance the weight he carries, and he knows I will guard his secrets as tightly as yours. Some of it I got after him about, since I could smell it on him. If the poor mech's not careful, he's going to give himself a glitch."

"Good," Bluestreak relaxed a little more. "Not that he's pushing himself so hard, but that you're there for him and getting on him for working too hard. I wish Jazz wasn't gone so much. Prowl needs him, but at least he's accepted your comfort. He needs it and he won't let me."

"It's difficult to hide from me; I can smell it when he's low on energy or hasn't been recharging well, and I can prod at him to take care of himself. If he doesn't he's going to burn himself out, and then where will he be?" The half-serpent continued stroking Bluestreak's back, humming softly.

"He's always been like that, fixated on whatever he's doing," Bluestreak murmured, his field smoothing out more as he drifted towards recharge. "He's always needed someone to help him balance. Sire and carrier did for a long time, then Jazz. Now he has you. Whatever he needs is okay with me. Even staying the night or more. Okay?"

"Okay," the half-serpent agreed. A soft smile touched his lips as he watched his lover sink into recharge. Bluestreak's nightmares had become much fewer since Idarassi's return, something for which everyone was very glad. Sliding into a more comfortable position, allowing Bluestreak to curl up in the center of his loose curl, the serpent-mech crooned softly, a low, rambling tune.


	12. Love's Reunion

**Into the Light 03: Love's Reunion**  
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Prowl sank into the hot oil pool in Jazz's hotel room with a trembling groan of relief, ecstasy and delight. It had been one of the more difficult things to adapt to, not having a pool to relax in after work. Even once he had the credits to afford it, regulations meant he would have to keep an entire apartment in the military sector as well as his quarters on base. It wasn't worth it, but every time Jazz visited and he sank up to his chin plates in hot oil, he'd investigate once more.

"Feel good, lover?" Jazz asked as he settled behind Prowl at the edge of the pool. Reaching into the oil his fingers slid into the joints of Prowl's shoulders and wings, helping to ease the tension there from vorns of learning just what worked on the Praxian.

A deep, resonant groan of pleasure escaped instead of words, but Prowl's field spoke clearly for him. Pleasure in the oil. Bliss at the touch. Adoration and devotion towards Jazz. The gradually easing tension of what military life meant slipping away for the night.

The sound drew a soft chuckle of amusement from his lover, Jazz leaning over to steal a kiss before settling back to continue working loose the tightness in the cables under his fingers. "You said Blue is doing much better since Ida returned. Will I be able to see him this time?"

"Yes," Prowl murmured, reveling in the mixture of pleasures that had once been common but now were as rare as his love's visits. "They're talking about allowing him to move out of intensive care, so long as Idarassi still cohabitates with him. It's a huge improvement."

Jazz didn't miss the flare of affection, gratitude and _connection_ with Idarassi's designation that hadn't been there in Praxus.

"Sounds like Blue isn't the only one he is working his magic on." He commented with amusement, though deep down he was grateful for anything that made Prowl's life here in Iacon better.

His lover wasn't telling him everything, and he had learned to read much from what Prowl did not say over the vorns. The things that Prowl complained about were not the entire source of the strain that Jazz had picked up in the Praxian.

"He's not," Prowl admitted with gratitude and without shame. "It's not the same as having you here, but having a ... confidant ... someone _here_ every orn ... I needed a friend more than I wanted to admit," he murmured. "So much happens that just isn't worth burdening our limited time."

Regret tinged Jazz's field as he leaned closer. "I'm sorry." He apologized softly as he gently nudged his lover to move forward, intending to join Prowl in the bath and see the rest of the tension in his lover's lower back.

"You're doing _important_ work, love," Prowl turned to kiss him after sliding forward. "You can make a good living with limited travel, but Cybertron _needs_ you out there. Just as I still make a very good living with trade. We're both doing this for our world, for the future. It's worth the separation for now."

"I'll keep trying to remind myself of that." Jazz answered, refusing to admit how hard it was climb up on that stage every time he was away from Iacon and know that his lover wasn't there in the crowd.

"At least now that I'm not a recruit, we can talk most nights," Prowl murmured, turning his helm for another kiss. "It's not the same, but it's something. I'm doing everything I can to end this war so we can travel together again."

"I know." A note of pride crept into Jazz's field as he slid around in the bath to face his lover, arms wrapping around Prowl for the kiss and touch he was craving. He felt the edge in his love that had been there ever since he'd enlisted, a deep-seated skittishness about being touched the only got stronger the longer Prowl was in the army. But actions belayed it and Prowl wrapped his arms around his lover and kissed him with all the passion Jazz remembered.

Jazz allowed the kiss to rule the moment, channeling his love and matching passion into it as his field reached out to surround his lover, probing gently.

With a small shudder, Prowl opened up to him. Pain, humiliation, horror, anger all unfolded for Jazz, covered by a weakening veneer of reluctance to share and the intense relief that the worst was over. Mingled in it all was a feeling Jazz knew entirely too well; that much of the abuse was sensual.

Jazz's arms tightened slightly, understanding on a level that hurt. Making sure that the contact was wanted, desired, and knowing how much difference a trusted touch from someone who only wanted to give could make. With it was a willingness. To listen. To hold. To do or be whatever Prowl needed.

Prowl's vocalizer hitched and his hold on Jazz tightened to the very edge of causing pain. A new wave of relief rolled through Prowl's field as it sank in that it wasn't going to cost him the reason he was fighting. That his love still accepted, still supported and wanted him. He buried his face against Jazz's neck as his vocalizer spat out gibberish until he gave up trying to talk.

He'd never wanted to burden Jazz with this, but Idarassi had broken his grip on the tightest of his self control. He couldn't hide it and he could not lie to Jazz, not to a question, even through their fields.

"It's all right love. Let it go. I'm here." Jazz murmured softly, nuzzling at his love even as his sparked ached at Prowl's pain. After a moment he began to sing softly, choosing one of Prowl's favorites from among the many songs he knew and offering as comfort and connection. Prowl sank into it until the song ended and another, a lullaby, began.

Slowly, slowly, he felt better until he was humming softly with his mate, even offering up a chorus now and then.

"I never anticipated this as one of the bonuses for backing your career," Prowl murmured. He felt a little sick inside, empty, but it was a feeling he appreciated. It meant that, for now at least, the pain and anger had subsided. He could feel the good things again. The love of his mate. Appreciation for surviving. Enjoying the high grade goodies Jazz had ordered just for him because they were far too acidic and bitter for Jazz to choke down. Even though it wouldn't last, for the next few orns he might just manage to push his real existence from his processors and enjoy what he was working and suffering for.

"You gave me the means to do what _I_ wanted." Jazz reminded him as just how much that had meant, then and now, flared between them. Along with a joy that Prowl was able to benefit from it as well. "I am glad it allows me to help you now."

"_You_ help me," Prowl said firmly as he moved his helm back so he could kiss his mate. "You are the reason I'm doing this and not focusing on rebuilding the business and family wealth." He rested their forehelms together. "I will stabilize this world for our creations."

Jazz quivered in his arms at the reminder of how deeply Prowl cared for him, and how far into the future the Praxian's vision stretched. So much further than they ever really spoke of. Bonding was still a nebulous discussion of 'eventually' when it did come up.

"Love you," Prowl whispered into another kiss as his hands began to run down the familiar frame. "Remind me how good interfacing can be. Please."

"Always with you." Jazz whispered in return, hands trailing down his mate's press against Prowl's spike cover. It slid open smoothly with a low moan of anticipation and a flicker of excitement in Prowl's field. With only a light circle of his fingers, the spike began to emerge into Jazz's waiting hand.

"Share with me." Jazz requested, nuzzling at Prowl. "You showed me how good this felt-." He fingers caressed the pressurizing length, stroking and squeezing. "Remind me again."

His helm tipping back at the longed-for touch, Prowl opened his field and pressed into Jazz as much as wove them together. Every sensation passed through to Jazz, every jolt of desire and pleasure at his touch.

"No one touches like you," Prowl whispered, his hands moving blindly, stroking Jazz's back until one found a sensor horn and began to rub it.

"Glad to hear that." Jazz laughed softly, visor flashing as he leaned into the touch on his helm and his hand continued to work his lover's spike. "Want to feel you inside of me. Want to ride you spike. Please."

A shudder of anticipatory excitement passed through Prowl's frame, causing the oil to ripple around them. "Yes. Please," Prowl moaned, his entire frame rolling into the light thrust into Jazz's hand. "Want to feel you, remember how good _this_ is."

A soft sound of agreement escaped Jazz as his cover slid and he moved, seating himself on Prowl's spike in a slow, smooth motion that drew a moan of bliss from him and the Praxian he was pressed against. Prowl's mouth found his as they stilled for a moment, simply savoring the sensation that they hadn't shared in more than three metacycles.

"Jazz," Prowl breathed a prayer of thanks before rolling his hips, pressing even deeper into his lover as their interface arrays rubbed.

"Yes, love." Jazz answered, leaning in to kiss Prowl and wrap his arms around the Praxian's shoulders, stabilizing him some and giving access to the lovely wings he adored.

They flinched away at the first touch, but then pressed into the seeking hands before Jazz could pull away.

"Sorry," Prowl whispered even as he moaned in pleasure. "They get bumped too often here."

"It's fine love." Jazz murmured, hands stroking over the wings and quickly recalling the shape and feel of them, finding again every touch that made Prowl moan and quiver. " You can always tell me to stop." He reminded his lover.

Reminder that Prowl's wishes would be respected here at least.

"Never," he nearly keened at the bliss rising so very quickly inside him. After so long separated from his love, of interfacing that was at best without desire, Prowl's ability to hold himself in check was weakening quickly. "Never from you."

"Let go." Jazz urged, shifting his hips to meet Prowl's motion and rippling his valve around his lover's spike, savoring the desire and need from Prowl and not doing anything to stem the matching want in himself.

It was not for lack of offers that he recharged alone while he was on tour, door guarded by his security and at most his personal assistant in the room when the accommodations were limited.

It was for the simple reason that he knew the fleeting pleasure could never come close to being with his love, and that in the end he would only be disappointed. So he waited, holding back, and that fact made the times like this that they spent together so much better.

Prowl shuddered. His hands found Jazz's hips, the desire for control, even in such a little way, still creeping in from the lack of control he felt in so much of his existence now.

"Yes." Jazz moaned, burying his face against Prowl's neck and surrendering control to his love. Each wave of pleasure that washed though him was shared with Prowl and accompanied by something else.

Joy. Desire. Devotion. Love. Thanks.

He felt it echoed back, just as genuine, just as honest, just as intense, along with the rolling pleasure Prowl felt as they lost themselves in the joy of their frames.

With each roll of his hips, driving himself deep into that exquisite tight, fluttering, rippling pleasure of his love's valve, Prowl let go a little more. The sensations felt good, but it was the emotional connection with the mech allowing him to do what he needed that allowed the overload to roll into him with a shared sense of relief rather than simple physical pleasure.

The oil rippled and roiled around them in the heat they poured into the thick liquid from their blissful peak and as they came down to relax in a tender, need-fulfilling embrace.

"Love you," Prowl whispered when he found his voice again. "No matter what, I love you."

"And I you." Jazz answered as he kissed him. "No need to worry or doubt."


	13. Challenging the Snake

**Into the Light 04: Challenging the Snake**  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ =================== ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Humming to himself, Idarassi made his way through the base, heading to Prowl's quarters. Bluestreak was having another long therapy session, so the half-serpent had been shooed out, and he'd decided to go see Prowl. The older of the Praxian siblings had some free time, which he chose to spend with Idarassi, either talking or playing a game with the set the serpent-mech had retrieved from the ruins.

Reaching Prowl's quarters, Idarassi knocked twice to announce his presence, then entered. Prowl had entrusted him with the code, knowing the bigger mech would keep it secret. Idarassi's coming and going was fairly common now.

As soon as he entered the room, Idarassi stopped, his scales flaring. Air hissed from his vents as his glossa shot out, tasting the air. It reeked of interfacing. Yellow optics narrowed as he took in his friend sitting on the berth trying to wipe himself clean and unmarked enough to visit the washracks. "Prowl?"

The Praxian looked up, his ice blue optics paler than normal and expression almost blank. "Idarassi..." he paused, at a loss as to what to say. He didn't want Idarassi to get in trouble over this, but at the same time he wanted it to stop so badly he could break. He hated his affair with Timetable, the tactical SIC, but that was a fair trade. He got what he wanted in some protection, intel and early access to training and Timetable got a willing and attractive berthmate. This, what Hardwing just did ... this was about taking.

Idarassi slid closer, leaning down, taking in the scuffs and the scrapes, the occasional dent and the other signs of what had happened. His forked glossa flicked against one of the dents, taking the scent and imprinting it into his processor. "Prowl... Who did this?"

Sensor wings quivered. "Hardwing. The SIC of Air Defense," he murmured quietly.

A deep growl started low in Idarassi's chest, a sound Prowl had never heard from the normally gentle half-serpent. The look in those yellow optics clearly announced that there was going to be the Pit to pay. Snarling to himself, Idarassi ran a gentle claw along Prowl's arm, then whipped around and was out the door as quickly as he could move. After a moment to center himself, claws flexing on air, the serpent-mech cast about for the scent, seeking a trail to follow.

It was an easy one. Hardwing was making no effort to take a back route or clean himself. The trail smelled more of Prowl than Hardwing. Prowl's misery. Prowl's hate. Prowl's submission that was probably still on Hardwing so the Seeker could announce it to the world.

A hissing snarl echoed down the corridor, making other mecha flinch out of the way. Idarassi followed the scent trail, glossa flickering in and out almost constantly, his behavior clearly that of a creature on the hunt. His expression and the way his claws flexed on air was a blatant hint that someone was in for it when he caught whoever he was tracking.

It continued to clear the path even faster as he entered the sector inhabited by the airframes. As arrogant and aggressive as they were, few were inclined to challenge such a large, powerful frame in the relatively confined spaces of the hallways. The half-serpent ignored the airframes he passed, completely intent on following the scent trail. Those who didn't get out of his way on their own were shoved aside with practically no effort.

It wasn't long before Idarassi's glossa led him to a locked door in the senior officer's wing. He eyed it for a moment, then lifted a hand and loudly scraped the tip of his index claw against the panel. There was no way anyone could miss that sound.

The mech inside didn't respond, however.

"I know you're in there, you slag-sucking fragger," Idarassi growled, adding a second talon. Sparks flew as he dragged both claws down the door panel, leaving bright scratch marks.

There was a long pause, and another set of claw marks, before the door opened. A heavy-frame Seeker, one of the largest still classified as a pure fighting frame, glared at Idarassi, the hot oil he'd pulled himself out of to answer the door glistening and dripping from his frame.

"What do you want?" Hardwing growled.

The speed with which Idarassi could move had surprised many mecha in the past, and it made the handful of watching airframes jump as he practically exploded forward. In only a few nanokliks Hardwing was off the floor and pinned by powerful coils, held tightly enough that his armor was creaking audibly. Idarassi's blazing yellow optics were barely a handspan from the Seeker's as he leaned down. "_You._ You hurt Prowl."

Hardwing's red optics flared, but all that came out was a scream as his wings crumpled in along his frame from coils looped around him.

"Let the commander go," someone shouted as weapons powered up.

Idarassi glanced in the direction of the voice, glossa flicking out, then turned his attention back to his prey, placing the tip of one claw dangerously close to a red optic. "Don't you _ever_ touch him again," the half-serpent snarled, warning clear in his voice. That said, he loosened his grip and dumped Hardwing in a somewhat mangled heap.

The air commander keened in pain, shock and for help that his subordinates were frightened to give. One finally darted forward to try and drag their leader away while two others opened fire to drive Idarassi back.

The half-serpent slid back a bit, glaring at the fliers who were shooting at him. Crossing his arms over his chest, he curled into a loose but corridor-blocking ball, watching with narrowed optics as Hardwing was dragged away. Otherwise, he didn't move even as laser fire seared across his scaled frame. He could smell the fear he was generating, watching as the airframes retreated with their leader.

A loud hiss sent the other airframes scuttling into cover as he uncurled, preparing to leave. He was confident that he'd made enough of an impression here that no one would bother Prowl again, and word would quickly spread to any others who might be of a mind to try. Sensing and hearing more mecha approaching, Idarassi paused, turning toward the sound.

A unit of six heavy security mecha was running towards him, but they came to a halt when they saw him looking.

"You will surrender or be subdued and face additional charges," the one in the lead stated.

Idarassi settled lower to the floor, holding up his hands to indicate that he wasn't going to resist. "My business here is done. I won't damage anyone else."

Two of the security mecha groaned in resignation, but all six were relieved they wouldn't have to subdue the strange mecha. The leader nodded and strode forward to secure stasis cuffs on Idarassi's wrists.

"Come with us," he instructed, turning to lead the way to the brig.

An optic rim went up at the groan, but Idarassi offered no resistance as the cuffs were secured around his wrists. He followed the lead security mecha calmly, his tailtip thwacking once across another mech's shin when the shin's owner stepped on the end of his tail.

It was allowed to pass without comment, and the trip to the low-security brig, a place of a half-dozen cells secured by charged clear barriers on each side of a wide hall, passed in silence.

The guard on duty startled slightly when he saw Idarassi, but quickly powered down and opened one of the cells.

"In," the security mech ordered.

The half-serpent took in the brig facilities with one sweeping glance, gliding into the opened cell and arranging himself in a pile, his upper half tucked under a loop of tail. Yellow optics gazed steadily out of the cell at the security mecha as Idarassi settled in to wait.

They left, leaving the one guard on duty to watch over the various low-danger prisoners. It was nearly a joor before anyone else entered. It was another security mech, but with the gold marks of an officer.

"So, the file says you are Idarassi, given clearance on the claim of kinship with Lt. Prowl in tactical," the security mech looked at him with deep orange optics.

"That is correct." Idarassi's upper half slid more into view, leaning atop the pile of his own coils and watching the officer calmly.

"What was your reason for being in the air defense officer's barracks?" the officer asked evenly as he brought out a datapad to record.

Yellow optics turned cold. "That piece of scum raped Prowl. His scent was all over Prowl. I could smell Prowl's pain, his hate. Even after I warned all the slime-sucking gutter slag to keep their hands to themselves."

"And that would cover why you attacked Hardwing as well." An optic ridge lifted. "You are aware that there are no regulations against what Hardwing did, assuming Prowl backs up your statement?"

"There should be regulations against taking advantage of a mech who can't fight back." The hiss Idarassi released clearly indicated his opinion on that matter. "I was somewhat aware of that. More so now."

"Perhaps. That is not our call," the officer told him. "How long ago did you learn of Hardwing's actions?"

"Immediately before I hunted him down. And that was mere breems after the act itself." Another hiss escaped.

The officer nodded and regarded his datapad. "What did you intend for Hardwing, if you had not been interrupted?"

"My business with him had been completed by the time I was interrupted. Once word spreads, hopefully it will ensure that anyone else who entertained thoughts of hurting Prowl will keep their hands to themselves." Idarassi adjusted his position slightly, scales rasping against each other, though his upper half didn't move.

"I would be surprised if anyone was willing to touch him after that," the officer chuckled, low and privately amused. "You will face a punishment for the attack. Were you aware of that when you attacked Hardwing?"

"The thought had crossed my processor. But, if taking a punishment means that my family will be safe from harassment, then it was worth it," Idarassi stated, glossa flicking out.

"They will not be safe if you are not there to protect them," the officer pointed out. "Depending on how badly damaged Hardwing is, you could be looking at a centuries in lockup."

The half-serpent's glossa flickered out again. "I am well aware of my own strength, and I know just how much I can exert to hurt without causing serious damage. Hardwing should have known better."

"Hardwing was within his rights," the officer pointed out. "It would have been different if you had been there when the approach happened. Defending what you claim is much less likely to result in charges if it happens during the challenge. When the medics are sure of his condition we will determine what the charges actually are. You are within your rights to either accept the charges and penalty as stated or demand an inquest into the incident. I expect we will know by morning."

"I await the decision, then." Idarassi settled back down, watching the officer. "We will see what the medics have to say."

"And what Prowl has to say," the officer added. "Do you have anything you wish to add to my report?"

"No, there's nothing else to be added. Hardwing raped a member of my family, and I made him regret it." Settling down, Idarassi dimmed his optics slightly.

The officer simply nodded, recorded than and left.

Three joors later familiar pedefalls drew Idarassi's attention to outside his cell once more to face a regretful looking Prowl and a badly unsettled Bluestreak.

"How are you doing?" Prowl asked quietly, his wings dropping a notch in apology for being the cause.

Idarassi uncoiled, shifting closer to the energy barrier. "I'm fine. It's you I'm more worried about, you and Blue." Clawtips lightly touched the barrier, ignoring the resulting shock.

Prowl had to catch Bluestreak's hand before he mirrored the touch. He hadn't stopped babbling yet, but no one was really listening. They all knew he was making noise just to hear it.

"I have spoken with the investigating officer, and the medics repairing Hardwing, and Bluestreak's medic," Prowl looked far more worn down than he should be. "Thank you, for taking this risk."

"The risk was entirely worth it if it means that they'll leave you alone now. I don't like seeing you looking like that, smelling the pain on you." The half-serpent leaned as close as he could get.

"Wait, what happened?" Bluestreak stopped his babbling to stare between his brother and his lover, his sensor wings flaring up in distress.

"Army life is not as safe as Praxus," Prowl explained gently. "Some mecha like to hurt those of lower rank."

"What?!" Bluestreak all but screeched, his wings and frame fluffing out in outraged distress.

"It is simply the culture in the army here," Prowl insisted firmly, quietly praying that the stern look was enough to get his brother to stop asking questions. He let out a silent thanks when Bluestreak went back to babbling, even if the babbling was darker in nature. He turned his attention to Idarassi. "The medics were stunned at that much damage without a single critical system being damaged, though I am not."

"I do believe those fliers now suffer from a fear of large snakes, and once word spreads hopefully it will be enough to deter anyone else who might be of a processor to try. I wanted to make Hardwing regret touching you, and make sure everyone else knows what they'll be risking if they come near you. You're family, and I protect my family." Idarassi's optics flared with yellow fire.

"If anything will, you have," Prowl said gratefully. "Your skill with your strength does mean that you are facing only grade two assault charges, mitigated by cause and fair warning. You will be spending the night in here, and Bluestreak will be with me. I doubt it will be much more than a couple orns and a fine for his repairs that I can easily pay."

"I'll be back with you before you know it, Blue," the half-serpent murmured. "And back to warning off anyone who might try to hurt either of you."

"It won't be soon enough," Bluestreak tried not to shake. "It really won't. But if it's to protect Prowl, I'll manage," he promised.

Idarassi nodded. "I did it to protect Prowl, to make sure no one will hurt him that way again. I would do it again if I had to."

"I hope you don't have to, ever again," Bluestreak babbled.

"I really should recharge," Prowl said reluctantly. "Unfortunately I can not leave Bluestreak unattended or the medic will not allow me to take charge of him again."

"I hope I won't have to, as well," the serpent-mech agreed. His clawtips pricked against the barrier again. "I'll be back with you as soon as I can, Blue. Stay close to Prowl until I'm out of here."

"I will," Bluestreak promised.

"With me or with the medics," Prowl promised as well. "I can not take him with me on duty. I will see you soon."

Idarassi nodded to both of them. "I'll see you when I get out of here."

SxSxSxSxSxSxSxSx S===================S SxSxSxSxSxSxSxS

Nearly a vorn later Idarassi was once again challenging authority to protect his family. This time, it was at his lover's pleading to join the battle and keep Prowl safe that had him moving. So he'd gotten a ride to the outskirts of the battle on a tank alt that had been happy to give him a lift and proceeded to make himself invisible in plain sight. Between his natural camouflage, that the optical protocols of most didn't register him as a mech if he wasn't moving and his incredibly low profile when he kept his torso down, he easily shadowed Prowl through the battle, watching as the storm colored Praxian shouted and commed orders to his unit as he moved with his natural commanding grace.

The half-serpent's glossa flickered out, tasting the air. Green-flecked optics scanned ground and air, watching enemies and allies darting back and forth. A laser blast impacted nearby, showering Idarassi with metal fragments and shrapnel. Another Autobot actually tripped over him, cursing at what he thought was a chunk of debris before darting off.

Idarassi slid closer to Prowl, flexing his claws as he watched.

It was educational to watch Prowl in this environment. He was once more in command, largely unchallenged, only here he had an acid pellet gun in one hand, an energy shield on his off arm, armor on his wings and no apparent compunction against using any of it to kill.

Idarassi was impressed by how Prowl was conducting himself and the battle at the same time. The Praxian was becoming a better fighter all the time, well on his way to becoming a force to be reckoned with in his own right.

As the big mech slid almost silently after Prowl, something caught his attention. His glossa flickered out as he paused, turning toward a heap of deactivated frames. Infra-red sensors registered a heat source, his scent receptors registered a living mecha. A Decepticon, painted dull gray to blend in with the deactivated, holding a laser rifle and taking aim at Prowl's back.

Sharp claws flashed. The rifle fell away as the Decepticon clutched at the fuel-spouting ruin of his throat. Tossing the rifle out of reach, Idarassi slid past the dying enemy, heading over to where Prowl had gotten to. Busy as he was, Prowl noticed the movement and flared his wings, tracking Idarassi.

::You should be with Bluestreak,:: Prowl commed him, though the tone spoke of being grateful to have the serpent-mech guarding his back.

::Blue is in the shelter under the base, along with the other noncombatants. I took him there myself. Then he told me to come out here and protect you. I tried to insist that I should be with him, but he insisted I keep an optic - and all my other sensors - on you,:: the bigger mech replied. He paused, flattening briefly to the ground and scanning the area. The battlefield was a cacophony of data, mecha running, shouting, dying, explosions and the thunder of jets overhead.

The non-verbal harmonic that replied spoke of great pride and no small amount of thanks. It was all the attention Prowl could spare at the moment as a small Decepticon unit tried to separate him from his unit. The Decepticon leader got a face full of acid even as Prowl barked out verbal orders to his unit when his comms went dead.

The tip of Idarassi's tail brushed Prowl's leg. "More of the fraggers coming," the half-serpent reported. "Can feel the vibrations. Something big, probably several somethings."

"Slag," the Praxian hissed even as he opened fire to take out another Decepticon. "See Soundwave, on the ridge?" he asked, the stress Idarassi could feel in his field not audible. "Knock him out if you can. I can fight these. I need my comms back."

"I'm on it. You stay close to your unit, or Blue will have my scales for wall art." The half-serpent promptly vanished, sneaking across the battlefield toward the Decepticon communications officer. He felt more than heard Prowl's confirmation. Every now and then he would freeze, peering at his target and judging distances, using his natural camouflage and non-standard frame for all it was worth as he crept silently up on the blue Decepticon.

"Effort at stealth: failed." The Decepticon turned his visor and mask covered face towards Idarassi before unleashing a powerful blast from his concussion gun.

The half-serpent ducked to the side to avoid the shot, hissing something rude in Soundwave's direction. Rather than keeping his distance, he lunged forward, getting closer to his target, though keeping low for cover. Shrapnel from the shot rattled against his scales. Weak lasers scorched his armor from above. Sharp claws guided by a sharp intelligence and hunter's instincts dug into his back for perchance while strong jaws lined with sharp teeth bit down hard on his neck.

Idarassi snarled, throwing his upper frame sideways and twisting to slam his back against the nearest piece of debris. He was aiming to scrape the whatever-it-was off his back, through actually crushing it between the debris and his own frame would be a definite bonus. He drew in his coils, scooping up a clawful of shrapnel and hurling it skyward to scare off whatever was shooting at him.

Three-quarters down his tail he felt his armor cave inward at two small but potent impact points. Then a missile exploded against his chest and through the haze of pain from all sources a presence was in his mind, tearing at his very thoughts.

That got a hissing roar from the half-serpent. He lashed out with his startling strike speed, feeling his tail impact something and send it flying. Drawing himself up into almost a spring posture, he homed in on his target's scent, glaring at the blue Decepticon even as a precise laser blast from above took out his optics. Growling, he launched himself forward, striking faster than should be possible for such a big mech.

He could feel his target move, but not quickly enough to completely avoid his grabbing hands. He caught a limb, probably an arm.

Feeling his claws catch on armor, he immediately tightened his grip, driving sharp talons into blue armor. As soon as the rest of his frame touched ground, he yanked, pulling Soundwave closer. Coils exploded forward, wrapping around the blue Decepticon's frame and clamping down _hard_. For the first time in a long time Idarassi made no effort to restrain his strength, feeling armor crack and crunch in his grip.

He felt the mech in his grip screech silently, the pain expressed in his field, and abruptly in Idarassi's neutral network. The harder he squeezed, the more the pain torn into him.

Gritting his dentas, Idarassi tightened his grip, feeling fluids forced out of Soundwave's torso by the exerted pressure starting to drip onto his armor. Sparks burst out from somewhere else, pattering against scales. Something _cracked_ audibly as his coils tightened again.

A huge mass slammed into him, driving him into the solid metal under him rather than knocking him away.

"Let go or I blow your helm off," a deep, dark voice rumbled at him.

Reacting on instinct at the impact, Idarassi twisted to dig his claws into whatever or whoever had slammed into him. His coils tightened once more, almost convulsively, and Soundwave went limp in his grip as something else went _crack-crunch_ in his frame. A moment later patterned coils loosened, releasing the mangled Decepticon.

Idarassi's glossa whipped out, impacting against something. He imprinted that scent into his processors, activating some rarely-used heat receptors along his optic rims and jaw before a large fist slammed into his face, knocking him away from both mecha. "Who the frag are you?"

"Megatron," the answer came as an orb far too hot-bright took over his limited vision as the owner of that voice took a step back.

Scales rippled and flared along the length of Idarassi's frame, his lips peeling back to bare his sharp dentas. The half-serpent's field flared with rage. "_You_."

::Ida, get the _pit_ out of there!:: Prowl's voice held an edge of very real panic. ::Or kill him _fast_.::`

::My optics were shot out... I can't see well enough to aim a strike. I'd love nothing more than to kill this fragger, but at the moment he'd be more likely to shoot me before I could get close,:: the half-serpent responded. He hissed at Megatron. "_You_ ordered Praxus destroyed. _You_ had my family killed."

"Change comes at a price," the shrug was audible as the cannon whined to full power. The only thing that saved Idarassi from the blast was the hit of a heavy laser rifle that snapped Megatron's attention towards the only Praxian on the field and his small unit.

::Get _out_,:: Prowl snarled, truly desperate for Idarassi to comply.

Idarassi complied with surprising speed, whipping around and going for cover. Within a few nanokliks he disappeared into the landscape, finding a place to hole up and wait. With his optics shattered he could only see fuzzy blotches of heat, and he didn't know the other Autobots well enough to separate Autobot grounders from Decepticon grounders. Curling up in the shelter he'd managed to find, the half-serpent waited as the battle raged around and over him.

Time passed, breems to joors to well past dark, with no sign of the battle abating. But it did move away, shifting as such things did. Shifting away from the city.

Once or twice mecha Idarassi could identify as Decepticons managed to stumble across his hiding place. They were swiftly dealt with. On another occasion an enemy Seeker crashed in front of him, swearing vilely but alive. That Seeker never even saw the serpent-mech before massive coils were on him, crushing the life out of him. Returning to his hiding spot, Idarassi followed the progress of the battle as best he could with his sensors and his comm.

It was comforting to hear Prowl's steady voice calling out orders, and he gradually realized that the Praxian was commanding far more than the score of troops he'd entered the battle with. By the time Megatron called the retreat, Prowl's voice was one of three dominant ones among the Autobots.

Pride swept through the half-serpent as he figured that out. His tense coil loosened, though not by much; he was still on a battlefield and couldn't afford to relax. He kept his audials, sensors, and scent receptors alert for any other danger, waiting for the battle to end and Prowl to return.

With the patience that few mecha possessed naturally, he waited out the night and well past the next dawn.

::Idarassi?:: Prowl's open comm was a search effort, a general broadcast in hope that his friend could respond.

::I hear you, Prowl. Keep your sensor wings spread when you come over so I'll be able to pick you out of the heat blurs. Look for the crushed Seeker,:: the half-serpent replied, stirring in his hiding place.

::It's safe to lift yourself up, if you can,:: Prowl said even as he complied, coordinating with two others to begin calculating the coordinates of Idarassi's transmission.

::I can still move. I just can't see much outside of heat sources.:: Idarassi slid out of his hiding spot, audial panels twitching as he listened for danger. Sliding up onto the highest pile of debris, he reared back, staring in the direction of the heat sources he could detect approaching. Spotting Prowl's heat-shape, wings spread, he relaxed a bit more.

::I see you,:: Prowl responded quickly. ::You can relax. We'll be there shortly. Can you pick up any survivors in the area?::

Idarassi swayed back and forth slightly, looking around. ::I see heat signatures here and there. Some are barely registering. Can't tell what faction they are, though. I'd need you to be my optics for that.::

::No matter the faction, they're valuable,:: Prowl said firmly as Idarassi saw several alt modes moving quickly towards him. One, the slowest, was a convoy class large enough to easily transport him.

::I'll find them for you, you and the others can deal with them.:: Settling into a loose ball, but still remaining as visible as he could, Idarassi waited for the others to reach them. He watched the alt-mode heat-shapes approaching, picking out some details from the varying temperatures within those shapes. They all stopped well away from him, and when Prowl stood he spread his wings wide.

"Ida," the Praxian walked up with a measured pace, his hand out and palm flat while the two mechs with him remained back.

The big mech's glossa flicked out, tasting the air as he inspected the heat-shape. "Prowl." He relaxed completely, scales loosening from where they'd been flattened against his frame, puffing out slightly. Settling down, he slid forward to lightly flick his glossa against Prowl's extended hand, glancing at the other two mecha and tilting his helm slightly to the side.

"Ironhide and Bulkhead. Fix-it is on the way," Prowl answered as he stepped closed, inside Idarassi's field. "How injured are you?"

"Worst is the obvious." Idarassi waved toward his shattered, blackened optics. "I'm actually thanking Firewire for building in heat receptors separate from my optics. First time I've actually thanked Firewire for anything... Few laser burns, a missile impact to the chest, and something small hit me hard near the end of my tail when I went after Soundwave."

"Rumble, most likely," Prowl supplied with casual indifference. His hands on Idarassi's frame were light, gentle, confirming what he'd been told. ::Datalink?:: he asked.

The serpent-mech glanced around, locating all the hot spots he could see. There were a couple missing, having been almost too dim to see before and now reading as completely cold. Marking each hot spot, Idarassi linked up with Prowl and sent him the coordinates. ::A couple have gone cold, but the rest are still there.::

::Understood,:: Prowl nodded. "Ironhide, survivor, unknown faction," he called out, databursting the coordinates to him, then another set to Bulkhead. ::Command. I have Idarassi, the location of eight unidentified survivors, and five more deactivated. Requesting additional personnel to collect them.::


	14. A New Home

**Into the Light 05: A New Home**  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ =================== ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Six and a half vorns after coming to Iacon, Bluestreak was on his seventh outing into the city, each time accompanied by either Prowl, Smokescreen or Idarassi. Each a success on some level. This one was different. It was special. He'd just been released from the psych trauma ward's ICU to move into his new family home. He still felt miserable that he couldn't contribute, but his entire family reassured him, _firmly_, that they were not upset that he'd taken so much longer to recover than they had. Prowl had assured him, in his own scowling way, that the income the three who were working did generate was more than enough. The home wouldn't be as nice as their former one, the area not as exclusive, but it was considered safe, well off and there was room enough for everyone and the needed public rooms for the five of them.

Prowl had stated that the primary difference would be that they did not, and would not be employing any servants. Bluestreak recognized the rust stick his brother was tossing him and immediately jumped at claiming much of the maintenance. He was sure he could keep the place clean, especially with Idarassi's help. If he couldn't yet bring in credits, he could help the family from needing to spend them. He could probably make meals too. Nothing like a real cook or chef, but he could do better than putting a cube on the table. He was sure of it. Maybe he could take a few classes or something.

"You are thinking entirely too hard," Idarassi chided his charge, having heard every thought as they went directly from Bluestreak's processor to his vocalizer.

"Sorry," Bluestreak responded on reflex. "I'm just so excited and nervous. You've really seen it, not just the pictures I saw?"

"Yes, I've seen it," the half-serpent replied. "I helped get everything set up and arranged for everyone, and we had to make sure things were set up for my frametype as well. It's a very nice place." He made his way toward it, actually flowing up and over a parked mecha in alt-mode, ignoring the surprised squawk.

"Oh good," Bluestreak hugged him from where he was riding on Idarassi's back and giggled at the parked mecha's reaction. "I knew it would be functional, because Prowl would never tolerate anything less. It would be nice because Jazz and Smokey would insist on it. And safe, because Prowl would insist on that for everyone else, but especially for Jazz. I really hope they bond soon. I think they're as ready as they'll ever be."

"It's in the safest area we could find, and it is quite functional. We inspected it thoroughly before we settled on it." Idarassi darted around a moving mecha as their new home came into view. "I'm not so sure they're ready to bond, but I doubt they'll ever be really ready for it."

"You mean Prowl's not ready," Bluestreak sighed. "He loves Jazz, but he's so private. I really don't know what happened, but he's always been that way. Sometimes I think he'd keep everyone at arm's length if he could."

"Jazz will break through Prowl's armor eventually. He knows all the tricks to it. And I think you're right, Prowl would. Too bad for him we're all well able to get around that." The serpent-mech coded open the door after a short lift ride. "And here we are."

"All it takes is a little kindness and ability to pick up when he's _serious_ about being left alone," Bluestreak agreed, bright blue optics taking in the entry/living/dining room that took up the bulk of the first floor. There was a door to the small kitchen and storage, a table to gather at and an entertainment center with enough seating for everyone and guests. "It is nice. Our rooms are on the second floor, like before?"

"They are," Idarassi confirmed. He slid across the main room to the lift, curling into it for the trip to the second floor. Emerging into the corridor near the middle, he pointed to the two doors on the left. "The first room is Prowl and Jazz's, the next one over is Smokey's, and ours is on the right." He headed for that door, opening it and gliding in.

The room was large enough to hold both of them comfortably, the berth oversized and reinforced to handle Idarassi's weight. A low couch and a few floor pillows made a small cluster in front of a small vid screen. Older possessions of Bluestreak's, thought lost when their home in Praxus had been destroyed, had been placed on a small side table.

Idarassi felt it in Bluestreak's field when he spotted the small collection. The squeal his lover and charge let out was one of pure joy as the Praxian launched himself off Idarassi's back to check out the contents of the table more closely.

"How did you get these?" Bluestreak's voice quivered much as his brother's had.

"I spent two vorns in the ruins of Praxus, digging through the rubble for supplies. These I found when I was going through the wreckage of our old home. Most of what I found was destroyed, but there were things that suffered only minor damage or somehow weren't damaged at all." Idarassi glided over, stroking his hands over Bluestreak's shoulders. "Prowl almost broke down when I returned the items of his that I recovered. It took him over a breem to find his voice again, I think."

"I'm not surprised," Bluestreak leaned back into the contact as he picked up a small shrine-statue of Primus. It had been a mass-produced thing, an object bought for him because it was shiny and glowed and he was four vorns old and spoiled by doting creators and older brother. Yet it was now one of the only things left that his creators had touched and it meant all the more to him for it. "He never had many things, but every one meant a lot to him."

"And a surprising number of them survived the tower's collapse." The half-serpent set down the cage containing the gray Praxian's pets and wrapped his arms gently around the younger mech, being careful of Bluestreak's sensor wings. "I brought back as much as I could find."

"It's a lot more than any of us expected," Bluestreak murmured, setting the statue down to pick up another of his prized possessions, a soft, squishable fake mechanimal he'd received as his very first plaything. Unlike the statue, he understood how it had survived. It was vulnerable to fire, not crushing. It made it no less dear to him to have it back. "You're the greatest gift we could have ever hoped for. The best thing I could have ever gotten."

"And you are dearest to me," Idarassi murmured in his audial, purring softly against Bluestreak's back. "When we were separated in the tower collapse, I was terrified that I had lost you. I was more worried about you than I was about myself. When Jazz told me you had survived, I about melted into a relieved puddle."

"I was told that I started bouncing off the walls and driving up them," Bluestreak giggled and turned his helm to steal a kiss. "I barely recharged until you were safe and against me again. I missed you so much."

Idarassi returned the kiss, his forked glossa flicking ticklishly over Bluestreak's lips. "That must've been interesting to see. I will admit that I didn't recharge much on the way, either. I only stopped when I absolutely had to."

Bluestreak melted into the kiss, his field flaring with desire as he put the toy down and turned to face his lover.

Clawed fingers stroked over Bluestreak's back and along the sensitive lengths of his sensor wings as the tip of the half-serpent's tail looped loosely around the gray Praxian's ankle. Idarassi drew Bluestreak closer, nipping daintily at his lower lip, the tips of his glossa tickling against Bluestreak's cheek.

Seeking gray hands slid down Idarassi's chest, teasing sensors before ghosting over the large plate covering his interfacing equipment. "I want to feel you in me, all around me, like no one else can be."

Heat could be felt under that large scale before it split and folded out of the way. Idarassi's coils wrapped around Bluestreak, carefully lifting him off his pedes as the half-serpent backed toward the berth, holding the young Praxian close. The tip of the scaled tail slid up Bluestreak's thigh to teasingly probe at his valve cover. It slid open instantly, Bluestreak shivering in anticipation of the unique sensation of that tailtip stroking him so intimately.

Idarassi's tailtip slid across the platelets surrounding Bluestreak's valve, stroking over them, teasing the edges before beginning to push through them. The very tip explored the gray Praxian's valve, teasing the sensor nodes, wiggling in deeper. At the same time, the half-serpent ghosted his clawtips along Bluestreak's sensor wings, finding all the most sensitive seams.

Despite Bluestreak's desire to return the pleasure, to give as good as he got, he was soon nearly limp in his lover's grip as he moaned and trembled in the growing bliss.

That probing tailtip wriggled in deeper, rubbing against all of the sensor nodes it could find, the tip quivering against the dense knot of nodes at the very top of Bluestreak's valve. The fine scales rippled, brushing against the valve lining in ways a spike just couldn't. Idarassi captured Bluestreak's lips in a thorough kiss, his forked glossa fluttering against the Praxian's, taking in the gray mech's unique taste as Bluestreak shuddered and cried in pleasure.

Gray hands gripped Idarassi's shoulders and Bluestreak bucked and squirmed on the tailtip, his valve squeezing down around it to take in even more of those sensations that nothing else was like.

The scales of Idarassi's tailtip rippled in complex patterns, stroking and teasing the walls of Bluestreak's valve. The very tip continued to wiggle and quiver against the nodes at the very top, managing to slide over each one individually. He reveled in the cries of pleasure his lover let escape and the wild surges of pleasure Bluestreak's field pushed into him.

"Idaaaa!" Bluestreak cried out as his frame began to lock up, energy jumping from his plating as the stimulation pushed him past his limit.

Scales rippled all along Idarassi's frame as he applied lips and forked glossa to Bluestreak's neck, clawtips slipping into the seams at the bases of the gray mech's sensor wings. His field wrapped around Bluestreak's as the Praxian gradually came down from his overload and melted against his lover.

"Nobody does it like you," Bluestreak purred sloppily.

"I would be greatly surprised if anyone else could." The half-serpent settled onto the berth, wrapping arms and coils around the gray mech, holding him close and relishing the way his lover snuggled against him with such a happy and content field.

Bluestreak giggled. "True." He reached down to stroke Idarassi's interface array. "Mmm, and what about you? What way to get off do you favor this orn?"

That forked glossa fluttered lightly against Bluestreak's cheek as Idarassi rolled onto his back. "Watching you ride my spike," was the answering purr.

Bluestreak shivered in anticipation at reenacting their first time together once more. Without hesitation he slid down Idarassi's frame to kiss the spike housing, then ran his glossa around it.

A gentle ripple of pleasure ran through the serpent-mech's frame, echoing the soft purr that rose from his vocalizer. The tip of his tail, still coated with Bluestreak's lubricants, came up to tease and touch the young Praxian's sensor wings. Light clawtips traced the edges of his lover's chevron. It all drew a pleasured sound from Bluestreak, sending the vibrations directly into Idarassi's spike housing.

Then the sucking began between laps and circles of that knowing glossa.

"Oh, Blue," the half-serpent murmured, his scale-patterned spike beginning to pressurize into Bluestreak's mouth. The tip of his tail slid along the leading edge of one sensor wing, leaving a glistening trail of lubricant along the edge. He felt Bluestreak smile and the soft humming began, adding vibration even more directly to the enticing pleasure of that talented mouth. It was a long-familiar dance between them, one that neither tired of.

Scales ruffled and flared against Bluestreak's plating, stroking over his armor from all directions. The half-serpent let out a soft, breathy moan, his body undulating in that fluid way only he could pull off. Once his spike was fully extended, Bluestreak let it slide from his mouth, only to wiggle lower to apply his humming and glossa to his lover's valve.

A slightly stronger ripple ran through Idarassi's frame, accompanied by an "ooh!" His valve cover opened quickly, the edges of the platelets glistening slightly with lubricant.

"We don't play down here nearly often enough," Bluestreak purred. "Want to overload you before I ride you."

"I like the sound of that," the half-serpent purred, tilting his helm to watch. The tips of his claws continued to trace Bluestreak's chevron as his frame leaned into the gray mech's touches. A glossa was nothing like a spike, it didn't reach as deep, or fill as fully, but it was ever so much more agile and Bluestreak loved using his.

The walls of Idarassi's valve rippled against Bluestreak's glossa, trying to draw it in deeper. The half-serpent's long, scaled frame shifted and wriggled against the younger Praxian's, tail curling and weaving around sensitive sensor wings. They eagerly pushed into the contact, Bluestreak trusting his lover fully even as he focused on bringing Idarassi pleasure.

Idarassi made a sound that was half hiss and half gasp as the gray mech's glossa found another sensor node in his valve. Scales flared, allowing Bluestreak's fingers to slip underneath, through the mesh to the circuits that lay below it. Charge was beginning to nip at his systems.

Feeling that, Bluestreak began to purr and probe the valve with more vagarious licks. His fingers worked the circuits he could reach as his frame shamelessly rubbed along his lover's.

Scales and plating stood on end as the half-serpent's back arched, forming a nearly perfect curve as he overloaded. Charge raced along his circuits, danced between armor plates and scales, leaping off onto Bluestreak. His valve tightened, trying to grasp the smaller mech's glossa as it would a spike.

Bluestreak gleefully held on, riding out the rise in elevation calmly and continuing to wiggle his glossa, lapping at the sensors until Idarassi began to relax.

Strong coils loosened around Bluestreak's frame, the serpent-mech almost melting into a contented puddle of scaled metal. Twitches ran through his frame at the continued stimulation, a soft mew of bliss escaping.

Bluestreak grinned as he gently lifted his helm. "We really must play with your valve more," he purred, playful and pleased. "You really are delightful in pleasure."

A very light clawtip teased the points of Bluestreak's chevron. "It isss mossst enjoyable," the half-serpent agreed, his accent especially pronounced. His field wrapped around the smaller mech's, radiating love and contentment.


	15. A New Tactical TIC

**Into the Light 06: A New Tactical TIC**  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ =================== ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was a struggle for Jazz not to press his love against the nearest wall and ravish him when Prowl walked into the waiting room of the officer's salon. As it was, he had to settle for a sharp intake and very bright optics. Prowl had been polished and detailed to within an inch of his life by two specialists from the military and looked distinctly less than pleased by the process and results. Still, it was part of what was expected when he received his promotion to tactical TIC, a position he had worked very hard to earn. He was now in the Prime's circle of officers, a mecha with access to the most powerful beings in the empire and the ability to shape the future in very direct ways.

Instead Jazz settled for gliding forward and taking Prowl's hand, one of the few places he figured he could touch his mate without marring the mirror finish, and kissed it gently. "You look amazing." He purred, tone full admiration and affection.

"I feel ridiculous," Prowl muttered, but his field was warm and welcoming for his mate, so much more settled than the first few vorns he'd been in the army. "_You_ are going to make every mecha there jealous of me," he purred, taking in his mate's finish, taken to something similar to his show look. "I'm going to enjoy getting all that polish off you."

"We'll make it a mutual thing." Jazz promised with a smile, optics bright with anticipation. "I actually have several orns before I head out on tour again."

"And _I_ have leave those orns," Prowl rumbled eagerly as he guided Jazz around to walk out. "I'm just grateful I don't have to look like this regularly."

"Just formal occasions, state functions, and any time I am coming home." Jazz teased, keeping his field blended with his mate's as they walked from the senior officer's barracks to the ballroom where the celebration was to be held.  
It was instantly clear to Jazz that his mate was far less comfortable in crowds than he once was, though he hid it far better.

"Ah, our guest of honor has arrived," a rich, strong voice greeted them as a deep purple and black femme with a green optic band and face mask swept up to them. "You must be Jazz," she inclined her helm in polite greeting. "Your performances have done a great deal for morale."

"Jazz, this is my CO, Chief Tactical Officer Cryptic," Prowl introduced her.

"It's pleasure to meet you." Jazz responded, managing a smooth bow without letting go of his mate. "I am glad that something I truly enjoy is also beneficial to others."

"Keep a good grip on him. He's becoming quite a desirable commodity," she advised Jazz before turning to mingle into the party once more.

"Which one of us is going to end up with mecha jealous of us?" Jazz quipped as he glanced at his mate, though there was a slightly more serious edge to his field.

"Definitely me. I have you on my arm for all to see," Prowl gave a faint smile as they worked into the crowd, greeting and mingling. Though Prowl knew them all, at least in passing, it was painfully clear to Jazz that he didn't _like_ any of them, and would rather be almost anywhere than here. It was a sharp contrast to the merchant versions of this where Prowl was at least pleased to see a fair number, even if he disliked the setting.

"And not going anywhere." Jazz promised as he squeezed Prowl's arm lightly and kept his field solid with support and blended with his mate's. "Except maybe up to sing a song or two later, if you really want to make them envious."

That did generate a real smile from Prowl, something that got noticed by more than a couple mecha, and from their surprised looks, it may have been the first they'd seen.

"Well, hello there," a medium voice greeted them, earning a twitch of resigned displeasure from Prowl. "It is good to finally meet you, Jazz."

"This is Hardline, the tactical SIC," Prowl introduced him. (Note- in chapter 4 the tactical SIC that Prowl is having an affiar with is referred to as Timetable. Are these supposed to be the same mecha?)

"It is good to be meet you as well." Jazz responded with a slight incline of his helm, proper manners rising to the surface in response to his mate's reaction at the appearance of the mech.

"So this is why you refused my offer to escort you tonight?" Hardline asked Prowl, his tone one that set Prowl on edge and warned Jazz that something unpleasant was up.

"Yes," Prowl answered. It was the truth after all. Their deal. "If you'll..."

"Did he know before he helped pay for that apartment you're living in that you're just using him?" Hardline asked sweetly, stunning Prowl to the point he didn't even react.

Jazz was more concerned with his mate's reaction than the actual content of the words as he nudged Prowl hard through still blended fields, his containing all of the trust and belief that he held in the Praxian. "I think you may have your facts wrong," He replied, calm and even.

Hardline focused on Jazz as anger welled up in Prowl, though for now the Praxian kept it in check.

"He's as loyal as a pleasurebot," Hardline told Jazz simply. "Interfacing his way to what he wants."

"Really?" Jazz inquired. "I'll have to figure out who this mech you are referring to is and avoid them at all costs."

"How do you think he made third in Tactical in twenty three vorns?" Hardline asked.

"By working three times harder than anyone in history at it," Prowl hissed, his voice low to avoid causing a scene.

"Please. I got you..." Hardline's comment was cut off when Prowl slugged him hard.

"Prowl." Jazz didn't release his hold on his trembling mate. While everything that Hardline had said was slanderous and highly insulting, Jazz didn't want his mate getting into trouble over it. He could feel the optics of much of the room on the scene, but no one came to Hardline's aid either. He refused to believe that Prowl had such a volatile reputation that they were afraid of him, and that wasn't the vibe he was getting anyway. Much of the room seemed amused.

"I was wondering how long it would take him to anger you," Cryptic chuckled as she walked up to the scene. "Hardline, I believe you should go see the medics. Prowl, you will report to the brig in the morning, where we are going to have a chat about this."

"Yes Sir," Prowl inclined his helm and wings to her in both submission despite the fact that he was still trembling faintly in outrage.

Hardline merely gave all three of them a glare and pushed himself to his pedes before leaving.

"Come," Cryptic ordered politely as she glided away, towards a balcony door.

Jazz moved with his mate to follow her as the rest of the room settled once more, though the main topic of conversation had shifted dramatically. He could feel Prowl set himself fully under control, though the outrage was still simmering just below the surface.

Once out of sight of the main gathering, Cryptic faced them. "As much as I enjoyed witnessing that, you really could have chosen a better venue."

"Yes sir," Prowl murmured, his systems shifting from anger to embarrassment.

"Calm yourself down, settle what you need to and rejoin the party when you are ready," she instructed.

"Yes sir," Prowl said again, watching as she slipped away.

"Want to talk now, or later?" Jazz asked quietly, attention focused on his mate.

"I don't want to talk at all," Prowl sighed. "But you are entitled to know. I have been trading interfacing for protection with Hardline. It was nothing more. Not for me."

Jazz considered that for all of about a nanoklik before shrugging. "All right." If Prowl said that was all it was, then he was willing to believe him. In all of their vorns together Prowl had never done anything to make Jazz doubt the trust he placed in the Praxian, and he wasn't about to start now.

The surprise that flicked across Prowl's field and features nearly broke Jazz's spark.

"Thank you," Prowl whispered before leaning over to kiss him gently.

Jazz wrapped his arms around Prowl, not caring about looks and polish when they both needed this. "I believe in you. I trust you. If this is the path you have chosen, I will stand and support it."

It was the least he could do, when Prowl had done the same for him. And beyond that, it was simply what one did for one's mate. A mate that was currently trembling in his arms, hugging him back as a flood of emotions stormed through Prowl's field too fast to fully pick up, but for Jazz there was no missing the relief overlaying the darker sensations.

They rested their forehelms together as Prowl finished gathering himself, remaining still until he drew away slightly. "I am sorry he tried to use my choices against you. It is not one I wanted to make."

"I know." Jazz smiled a little as he stretched up to kiss Prowl lightly. "Though for someone who is supposed to be a high ranking tactician it seems to me he made several stupid moves tonight."

A low chuckle escaped Prowl. "Even the best tacticians are blinded by personal desires," he gave a self-effacing smile. "His primary mistake was in judging how proud I am in making it this far this fast."

Matching pride flared in Jazz's field, very aware of how much effort it had taken from Prowl. "Something which there is a still a party going on to celebrate."

"Yes," Prowl drew back and offered his arm, his entire presentation fully formal once more. His field, still meshed tightly with Jazz's, was bright with affection, gratitude and determination. "I believe we could both use a glass of high grade."

The smaller mech smiled as he took the offered arm, and offered his own suggestion. "High grade now, and a more private celebration later."

SxSxSxSxSxSxSxSx S===================S SxSxSxSxSxSxSxS

Jazz had to admit, it was fun socializing with people who both knew who he was and weren't dazzled by his fame, but he was very glad to be home, if for no other reason that Prowl was glad to be home. Despite his love's ability to handle a crowd, people and politics that Jazz found nothing short of amazing given how much Prowl hated it, Prowl _did_ hate it and that took much of the enjoyment out of it. Prowl liked to be in charge, liked to call the shots, but he liked to do so from the background, not the limelight.

Prowl wanted to be the power behind the throne, not to have the throne for himself.

He felt the change in Prowl's field the moment the door closed behind them. Relief. Release. _Desire_.

That alone was enough to make Jazz smile as he turned to his mate and pulled him close for a kiss. "Shower, to remove that polish...and take care of some other things?" His field pushed playfully against the Praxian's, bright and warm.

"Yes," Prowl rumbled eagerly and wrapped his arms around his mate to draw him close as the kiss deepened. "Or wear some of it off first," he purred suggestively.

"I'm game." Jazz responded, nipping his lover lightly. "Just remember what happened last time you couldn't wait past getting the front door closed."

A deep rumble escaped Prowl, hinting that he didn't find the audience as objectionable as he put on. Not when Jazz was concerned at least. Still, he pulled Jazz towards the internal lift and their room.

Jazz laughed, bounding forward and turning around so that he was facing Prowl as they rode up the short distance, the kissing teasing touches continung without pause. It was Jazz that took the lead to their room when Prowl was too revved up to break the contact. He heard his mate's whine before Prowl was after him.

It was a game they both enjoyed after they had been apart so long. Jazz's playful, vibrant nature drawing his mate out of the cold facade Prowl often retreated behind for his orn to orn to orn functioning.

Whether or not they made it to their room before the first round came to an end was always questionable.

This time Jazz only just got past their berthroom door when Prowl caught him and pinned him hard against the wall next to it. It was rougher than it had been in Praxus, but _Prowl_ was rougher, harder, an edge given not just by military training but by what he'd suffered in their ranks. Jazz always took it as a challenge, not just to give only love and gentle affection in return, but to have his love settled back to normal before he had to leave on another tour.

Acceptance of what Prowl needed flowed through the field surrounding the Praxian as Jazz surrendered to that need, hands moving soothingly over his lover's sides. It always felt good to know how quickly Prowl responded to him, that it never took more than a night to have his lover back to the tender mech he'd been before. It made him look forward all the more to the orn where he wouldn't have to leave for so long. That edge might never come back if he was home more often.

Despite the rough hands and mouth, Prowl had never once forgotten to ensure Jazz was ready for him. Even if it was nothing more than a quick slide of his finger through the platelets, he checked before driving his spike in.

Jazz murmured encouragingly at the slide of the fingers over his already exposed valve, then moaned and shuddered as the thick spike was seated quickly in his valve. Even when Prowl was rough, he was the gentlest lover Jazz had known. No matter how frustrated and pent up Prowl was, he still retained the desire to feel his lover satisfied.

"Love you," Prowl moaned against Jazz's mouth as he began to thrust.

"Love you too." Jazz answered as his frame shifted to meet every motion of his lover, hands reaching for his the sensor panels. "Wings. Let me have yours. Please."

Without hesitation Prowl pressed them forward, directly into Jazz's seeking hands. The pleasure of the contact flared between them, drawing a resonant moan from Prowl as his systems were flooded with sensation.

"Love you. Love this. Because of you." Jazz reminded him, hands playing with the sensor rich appendages and seeking to give his mate pleasure and release.

"Never want to forget that," Prowl moaned against Jazz's throat. His hips drove forward, thrusting his spike deep inside his lover. "Never want to forget what it feels like. To have a _lover_ and not use this in trade."

"Always for you." Jazz answered as his fingers delved deeper, finding the base of the Praxian's wings.

It was all Prowl could take. With a roar his frame arched, pressing his wings forward and his hips up to grind against Jazz's with each explosive burst of pleasure that came with the rush of spurt after spurt of hot, thick transfluid through his spike and against the wanting valve nodes.

For a moment Jazz was able to see his lover in his pleasure and the release it gave Prowl. Then his own vision went static, distorted by the explosion of charge from his valve and the joined sensation of their shared overloads.

When the bliss settled to the warm afterglow, Prowl had his face pressed against Jazz's neck, his field the chaotic mix of having gone too long without _talking_ and being on the verge of a function-changing choice. The edge was not lost on Jazz, worse than it had been in the past. He held his love, simply stroking the Praxian's back soothingly as love and adoration colored his field and mostly covered the concern.

"How ... bad ... would it be to delay your next tour by a decaorn? Or even half of one?" Prowl asked, hating that he needed to, but he did need to. He needed his mate here, to be part of what was coming.

"At the rate I've been traveling, I think I am entitled to at least a decaorn's break." Jazz answered as he nuzzled his lover. The recovery time he took between tours was often half of what many other performers did, simply because with Prowl being so busy and Bluestreak having only been released recently there had been little reason for him to stay in once place for very long when there was something he could be doing.

Prowl nodded without drawing away. "I'm beginning to doubt I made the best choice in joining the army."

Jazz considered that, troubled. It was very rare for his lover to doubt a course of action once he had chosen a direction, and even more so to the extreme that Jazz was picking up here. He continued to rub his lover's plating gently, holding him close. "So what are you going to do?"

"I have not decided," Prowl murmured, drinking in the support and care he'd been starved for. "We chose this path. If it is to change, we should choose the new path, together. I ... I do not know if I can continue if Hardline spoke the truth."

Anger flared in Jazz at his mate's superior, bright and hot as he held Prowl tightly and _growled_. "You are brilliant. If you are applying the same skills you used to make the family business so successful, then the success is yours. He might have been your connection to the right _people_, but you've always needed those. The numbers, the results, your skills, those are _yours_."

"But the politics, at this level ... I don't understand them," Prowl shivered, mentally curling into the warmth and protection that was his mate's rage. "I don't understand the army culture. It's a fight every orn just to remember what I _should_ be and not sink to their level. I don't want to be like them."

"You aren't like them. You are _more_ than them." Jazz reminded his lover. "Do what you have always done when you didn't like something. Fight it. Change it."

Prowl shuddered at the prospect but nodded. "I need you. More than before."

"Then we will come up with something. I have been traveling like I have because I can. Tell me what you need and I will work around that." Jazz promised. Unlike his lover he was still a civilian, free to work when and where he pleased, and with enough of a reputation built up now that he could make demands and refuse offers and expect to have his desires met.

Another shudder passed down Prowl's frame as he held his mate tightly. His field rippled with his distress, gratitude and love of his mate. "I ... need you home more nights than you are gone," he admitted painfully. "Even if it means you fly home after a show and fly back the next orn for the next. I need you here for most of my special appearances and state functions." It tore him up inside to admit all of this, to put such demands on his mate and hamper the career he loved. Yet he said nothing short of the truth and asked for nothing more than he believed he needed. He _needed_ Jazz next to him to keep him focused and balanced. "I have enough rank to shift my schedule to accommodate the timing of your performances, at least sometimes, if that's what it takes for you to be here when I get home."

Jazz contemplated that, fitting it around what his functioning had been like since Prowl had joined the army and up until this point, and nodded. It wouldn't necessarily be easy to accomplish, but it was doable. "I will simply have to plan my tours more carefully. Knowing your schedule ahead of time so I know when I _can_ be away for several orns straight, will be very helpful."

He nuzzled Prowl until the Praxian facing him and claimed a kiss, strong and full of promise. "But even then, if you need me, I will be here." He promised, ready to do anything for his mate.

"Thank you," Prowl whispered as their lips briefly parted. "I will do what I can to help with the planning," he promised, a huge mass of tension uncoiling and sliding from his spark and processors. "The greatest factor in your being away for several orns will be your ability to be here for several orns afterwards."

"Doable." Jazz answered instantly. "I will simply have to alternate farther locations with nearer ones."

"Exactly," Prowl purred as he gradually began to untangle their frames, his spike sliding free smoothly. "Now let us get this silly polish off and enjoy sharing our berth."

Jazz reached up, tipping Prowl's face down for another kiss once his feet were settled firmly on the floor once more. "I like that idea, very much."

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Prowl had startled the guard on duty in the brig when he walked in to report for confinement, his finish flawless and once more at a normal level, which was better than most kept it. The mech had cycled his optics and complied after checking that Prowl was indeed supposed to be there. He left Prowl in the cell, glancing back once more to see Prowl sit, back ramrod straight, wings perfectly neutral in set and his gaze directly forward.

He hadn't so much as twitched when Cryptic gliding in on silent pede-wheels a joor and a half later. The only indication that he was even aware of his surroundings was the faint shift in his optics as they focused to follow her.

"Will you answer a question fully?" Prowl asked, his voice as even and calm as his exterior despite how torn up he was inside.

"Depends on what it is," she responded, instantly on edge and alert, though she didn't show it.

"How much influence did Hardline have in my promotion?" he accepted the unspoken cravat that she would not give away privileged information. He didn't believe he wanted to know anything of the type.

He could feel the surprise flicker across her before she got in under control.

"He did suggest you, strongly," Cryptic acknowledged, watching her subordinate carefully and trying to work out just what he was trying to work out. "The final choice is mine and General Kamidan's. You were promoted on your ability and potential at the end of the orn. I have never encountered a mecha with your dedication, even if your social skills leave much to be desired at times."

Prowl inclined his helm in acceptance of her words, both relieved that Hardline had lied and now concerned of the damage he'd done to his career.

"Why did you choose Hardline?" she asked him, using this opportunity to understand the one aspect she truly didn't understand about his choices.

"He was the only one to show interest and I needed the protection," Prowl shrugged his wings.

It was one of those moments where Cryptic was grateful for her visor and mask. Otherwise her shocked stare would have been insulting.

"I would have protected you," she told him quietly.

"You did not offer," Prowl replied simply. "How much trouble am I in?"

"Officially, a slap on the wrist," she responded, still stunned at what she was hearing.

"From Hardline?" he pressed.

"I take it that you intend to break it off with him?" she checked. "He'll try to destroy you."

"Then this should make his existence at least as difficult as he intends to make mine," Prowl withdrew a set of datachips and placed them next to his side, since he could not give them to her directly at the moment "I recorded every conversation we had, full audio-visual feeds. I may be wrong, but I as I understand it, being caught plotting to kill your CO is not a good thing for one's career."

"No, it is not," she scowled behind her mask. "When did you intend to tell me?"

"When it became advantageous," he answered simply.

"You may have a future in politics after all," Cryptic hummed thoughtfully. "I've been trying to catch him doing something serious enough for vorns."

"He is no less vulnerable to his desires than any mecha," Prowl said calmly, grateful that this seemed to be going well. So his CO knew he would never be _loyal_, she also now understood exactly how and why he did what he did. That meant she should feel confident that she could manipulate him in small ways from now on.

"And he desired you too much," she smirked behind her mask. "Yes, his ability to obsess has long been his primary failing. You will remain here for the rest of the shift, then you may return to your planned leave."

The force field dropped on her command and she held her hand out. "I will take the evidence against Hardline now."

Without hesitation Prowl picked up the datachips and walked to the edge of his cell to hand them to her. Their fields were both tightly controlled when they brushed. Internally, both were thinking hard as they parted and turned to focus on their respective orns.

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Jazz hummed softly to himself as he looked around the room. It was neat enough to satisfy his lover, something he had seen to after he gotten up. He had woken briefly when Prowl had departed early in the orn, then promptly gone back to into recharge and catch up the rest he needed.

He had no idea when his mate would be back that orn, or even if he would, but meal energon was waiting out for when he did arrive. And a small box of energon goodies that he knew his mate favored, which had been the one short trip out that he had made that orn. Content, he settled down with a piece of music that he had been working on to wait.

The comm ping from Prowl startled him less than a groon later.

::Prowl?:: He answered, surprised and hopeful.

::I'm coming home. My plan worked. Cryptic wanted Hardline far more than me,:: he responded. ::I should be there in two breems.::

::I'll be waiting when you get here.:: Jazz promised.

::Thank you,:: Prowl actually purred in nervous anticipation before closing the line.

Jazz sat there for a moment, trying to place the emotion from his mate before giving up with a shrug and getting up to check everything again. It was perfect as far as it went. The energon was out, the acidic and bitter treats that were Prowl's secret weakness were by the hot oil pool along with the sweet ones that Jazz preferred, and the oil would be up to temperature by the time Prowl got there.

Now all he had to do was settle until his love got home.

He picked up the music, even though he really wasn't focusing on it as he waited. An internal timer went off, rousing him in time to greet his mate at the lift door. He was waiting as Prowl stepped off, already reaching for his mate. His field reached out ahead, delight at having Prowl back and love wrapping around the Praxian.

Prowl nearly moaned at the contact as he returned the embrace and a fierce kiss. "I hope you recharged well after I left."

"Very well. Thank you for indulging me." Jazz purred, pressing against the warm frame of his mate. "Dinner is waiting, and then I am yours."

A shiver of anticipation and that nervous flicker passed through Prowl's entire being. "I look forward to more such evenings with you from now on."

"Every evening that I can manage." Jazz promised, leading Prowl in the direction of their quarters with the unspoken promise that those evenings would be numerous. He drank in the affection, the soft desire, the desire for closeness that Prowl shared so readily through his field and with his frame. It was different than their usual greeting, and it was a difference that Jazz thought he could come to enjoy very much as they slipped into the hot oil.

That, finally, distracted Prowl from his mate, at least briefly. Jazz had learned well that every mecha had their weakness, some vice or thing that they coveted more than they should. He was inordinately pleased that his mate's choice of vice involved spending far too long in the washrack and not something further afield.

With a gentle smile he pulled out the energon goodies he had acquired and placed them nearby for Prowl to notice once he was finished melting into the oil and was ready to focus on something else.

Eventually a white hand reached up to select a treat, though Prowl's optics didn't turn on. His field was warm with the soft pleasure that had nothing to do with arousal, and had been one of the first things Jazz had fallen in love with. When Prowl relaxed, it often felt as good as it did after a good overload.

It was a feeling that Jazz had missed as well, being away from it, and for the moment Jazz simply relaxed as well, drinking it in and savoring the quiet moment as his field blended with the familiar one of his lover's, peaceful and quiet. It was a reminder of simpler times, when their existences were simpler and the plans for the future easier to follow.

When their energon cubes and half the treats were gone, Prowl reached for one of Jazz's sweets and lifted it to his lover's lips.

Jazz smiled, playfully catching one of Prowl's fingers with lips and glossa for a moment before relaxing back to enjoy the treat. "You said today went well?" He asked quietly, opening the way for Prowl to talk if he wished.

"Yes," Prowl relaxed back, though his field was tinged with unease. "It seems while I calculated poorly in my choice of protection, my choice to record all of his incriminating berth talk may have been an overall advantage. Cryptic now has enough evidence on Hardline to send him far away. It seems she has been trying to get rid of him for a long time, but could never get enough evidence."

"Good." Jazz said, sliding closer and reaching out to slide his fingers into the base of one wing.

Prowl shifted to make it easier, extending the wing and unlocking the joint as he drew his lover into his lap. Once more the flicker of nervousness ghosted through Prowl's field as he claimed a kiss.

"Love?" Jazz asked softly, pulling back to look in his mate's optics.

"I'm never going to be ready," Prowl let out a low vent, sadness and frustration coloring his field. "Do you know why I've always pushed away the question of bonding, though I've taken all the legal steps to ensure your status?"

"No." Jazz admitted, startled as he processed what Prowl had just said before relaxing again, laying his helm against Prowl's chestplates and answering the Praxian's emotions with love and acceptance.

Prowl held him, quiet for a lingering moment. "I doubt I'll ever be ready to ... let another spark touch mine. I'm being unreasonable about it."

"It's your spark love. And as much as I would love to see it, to touch and feel it," Jazz lifted his helm to look back into his mate's optics again and saw how troubled Prowl was. "I also want it to be because you want it."

"I..." Prowl rested his forehelm against Jazz's. "I _want_ to have what my creators did. I don't want to be afraid of being that open to another. Of letting you that close. Of letting you know me that well."

Jazz kissed him. "I'm yours." He murmured. "I always have been. Whenever you want me. Whenever you are ready."

"I know," Prowl shivered faintly. "I want you. I need to get past this. I need you to take the lead in our first merge," he admitted with difficulty, the words nearly painful to get out. He did it though, and he meant it.

"I would love to. Love you. Tonight?" Jazz asked, one hand tracing gently down the seam of Prowl's chest plates questioningly. It earned a sharp intake from his love, something between intense arousal and fear.

"Yes," Prowl tried to both press into the touch and retreat from it, his field full of the conflict he was trying to deal with. He wanted this. He was terrified of it. He trusted Jazz.

He trusted _no one_.

Jazz kissed him again before pulling back to his feet and gently tugging Prowl with him. He kept his field fully extended, full of love and affection and the promise that Prowl was safe. His mate followed him, willing to be led. It was not the first time Jazz had been in charge so formally, but it was easily the most critical. If this went badly, it was unlikely that Prowl would risk it again.

Still, it made Jazz's spark flutter to realize that Prowl _did_ trust him this much. Not just for Jazz to do it, but to _ask_ for it.

Jazz guided him from the pool to the shower, never releasing his hold on his mate as he turned on the solvent and guided Prowl under it once it was warm so the streaming liquid could remove the fine sheen of oil still covering his mate. He stepped closer, kissing Prowl gently in an attempt to distract and reassure his mate. Prowl willing allowed the distraction, sinking into his mate's affection and comfort.

It didn't take long to clean off the oil, and both were already clean so they didn't need to scrub. Soon they were dry and Prowl shivered as he followed his mate to the berth.

The smaller mech squeezed his hand gently, guiding Prowl onto the berth first and making sure the Praxian was comfortably arranged, with wings unhindered and supported and frame relaxed, before joining his mate.

Facing his mate Jazz leaned forward, claiming Prowl's lips in a gentle but possessive kiss as his hands worked slowly down the Praxian's sides in a familiar touch. It wasn't often he dominated like this, but as in so many things, once he knew his mate's preferences it was easy to anticipate his desires and needs.

Prowl returned the kiss, welcoming the familiar as his hands moved to stroke Jazz's sides.

Slowly his field reached out, weaving deeper into Prowl's as the kiss ended and Jazz nuzzled gently at his mate. Then the soft sound of his chest plates unlocking disturbed the quiet of the room, the interlocking layers sliding back to reveal the first hints of a brilliant sky blue light.

Prowl trembled as his processors caught up with his optical feed. His field flared with a mixture of shock, awe and more than a touch of fear as his entire frame froze.

"It's for you." Jazz offered, complete trust in Prowl overlaying everything he did and said as the plates slid away fully and internal mechanisms shifted to allow the gold streaked sky blue light and its protective crystal chamber to be exposed. "Go ahead."

Ice blue optics snapped up to meet Jazz's, shock written openly on Prowl's features. His frame began to tremble as his hands moved upwards and in. One stopped at the edge of Jazz's torso, the other continued until he was within the field of Jazz's spark, where it too froze. A shiver ran through his mate's frame at the first contact, spark flaring briefly. But with the flare was a strong pulse of pleasure through Jazz's field.

"It's all right. Feels _good_ love. You won't hurt me." He tipped his helm to nuzzle Prowl's face. "I know you won't."

Despite the intense stress, Prowl finished the motion. His fingertips very lightly slid along the faceted crystalline orb, taking in the contours and the sensation of being so close to his love's spark. As desperately as he didn't want to, he couldn't help but calculate how little strength and time it would take to reach further in and close his hand enough to crush the life force inside.

A soft moan escaped Jazz with the physical touch on his spark chamber and he shivered again, fingers tracing lightly along Prowl's chest. "Let me see the color of your spark."

Again Prowl froze, this time with a burst of pure panic. He forcefully shoved the emotions down as his frame began to tremble. Optics focused on his hand at Jazz's spark, he unlocked his chest plates.

Slowly they parted. Then the armor under them. Then another layer of armor. Finally the internal shield began to slide out of the way, allowing a nearly pure white light to escape.

This time it was Jazz's turn to freeze, shock rippling through him until the true color of his mate's spark registered, a brilliant ice blue that reflected the nature of his mate so well. "Beautiful." He whispered, fingers finally moving to trace around the edges of Prowl's armor.

Prowl trembled, newer military protocols in an uproar at the physical vulnerability and very old emotional ones in a panic at having his every fault and desire about to go on display to the enticing spark above him.

Jazz's hand slid deeper, fingers brushing along Prowl's spark chamber so that his lover could feel as well. It earned him a deep moan as Prowl's optics flickered off as pleasure far more intense than he could contemplate rippled through his frame.

Then Jazz's spark chamber spiraled open, fully exposing his very life force, always one step ahead of his mate in this. It was probably for the best that Prowl couldn't see at the moment; he was already keyed up to a state of full panic and only just holding onto his will to go through with it.

Jazz's fingers brushed Prowl's spark again, asking as he reached out to surround Prowl with love and trust. "I'm here love. Please, let me in." The frame under him trembled, distressed and coursing with pleasure, but complied without question. Not daring to wait any longer and presented with something that he had wanted, dreamed of, for so long Jazz lowered his frame slowly, spark reaching out for the brilliant life force so close to his own.

It reached out to his as well, eager to connect to the spark it loved. When the first leaders found each other Jazz found another cause to pause. Prowl's _spark_ was as calm, cool and serene as Prowl on his best orns, yet Prowl's _self_, the emotional context around that crackling orb of calmness, was stressed and terrified nearly to the point of cracking.

The contradiction made him tremble, and at the same time desperate to ease that terror, to calm it so that Prowl could hopefully share in the joy flaring in Jazz at finally being able to connect with his love on this level.

His spark pressed deeper, sending the very shape of _safe_ and _good_ as Jazz reached out. Prowl's spark welcomed him and the deepening contact while sending wordless reassurance to Jazz that it would be all right.

Prowl processed too much, rather than felt. This, like romantic love and hate, was something outside the Praxian's processors sphere of understanding when it happened and thus it was to be feared and rejected. Yet like those emotions, Prowl would come to accept this with experience. It was that truth that Prowl's spark tried to help Jazz understand.

Worry eased, Jazz focused on feeling his mate, and offering himself. On this level, so much deeper than words or fields, was the pure love and devotion that Jazz felt for Prowl, and the acceptance of Prowl that had always been there for the Praxian as he was.

Warmth from affection and devotion flowed back from Prowl's spark, outlined by a mixture of hesitant acceptance because Jazz had long ago earned Prowl's respect and trust. Even what Prowl did not understand, and thus rejected by default, Jazz made acceptable. It was a trust that had been centuries in the making, kindled on their first night sharing the hot oil and treats and the surprise that each had expected the other to want the use of their frame, only to find that each only desired the other's company.

That memory burned brightly for Prowl, surrounded and infused by positive emotions even stronger, for Prowl, than what he thought of as 'love'.

The same memory answered, only from Jazz's point of view. The fact that he had trusted no one for a very long time before he had met Prowl. The suspicion early in their early meetings that each time they met was going to be the time that Prowl was finally demand something _more_ of Jazz.

Only for that to never happen, and to have the fear give way to trust, then, gradually, to the desire that led him to risk their first kiss.

The roar of _desire-lust_ that crashed into him from Prowl was more than he was prepared for. He knew well how hot his lover could run, but he'd never fully grasped just how much Prowl had held back in that last vorn before the kiss, or during the kiss itself. As cool and calm as his spark was, Prowl's emotions, when they had their way, were as sharp and intense as anyone's, only far more striking silhouetted against that spark.

Renewed joy flooded Jazz's spark and the connection between them as he finally processed that and realized how long and deeply Prowl had wanted him. And how much by then he had come to crave Prowl's presence and the peace Jazz felt around him.

Desire for Prowl, and the trust between them, that had led Jazz to Prowl's door when Jazz had nowhere else to turn. How he fled the only home he had ever known, good and bad, and risked it all to escape the contract that would have handed him over to one of the mecha responsible for so much of the abuse Jazz had suffered, for that peace.

Anger, cold and calculating and directed at those who had hurt Jazz, rose up at that memory. Beyond the protective response were flickers of other memories, stretched out over the centuries. Plans, great and small, implemented against those that had hurt Jazz. Not the family, but the individuals. Tactical, precise strikes of revenge that Prowl had never spoken of. He'd merely done.

Surprise and wonder answered the revelations, as well as a very curious _why_?

~They hurt you,~ Prowl answered, spark and processors fully united on this, and the confusion over Jazz's surprise.

~You didn't have to.~ Jazz responded, in awe that Prowl had gone to such great lengths to repay those who had hurt him. Wonder that Prowl had considered it worth the effort when he had already invested so much in Jazz, given him a new life and direction.

And all of the love and affection that he had needed so badly.

~I protect what is mine,~ Prowl responded fiercely. ~They hurt you. They had to pay.~

~Yours from the beginning.~ Jazz murmured, sinking deeper into the merge as emotions and pleasure started to overrule rational thought. Love and joy pulsed with growing strength as his sparked flared brighter against his love's. It was a sentiment that Prowl's spark welcomed and shared, content to surrender to the sharply rising charge that ensured the overload would be mutual and shared.


	16. As Iacon Burns

**Into the Light 07: As Iacon Burns**  
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Centuries had passed since Idarassi had reunited with his family in Iacon and they'd settled into a new home. There had been ups and downs in their new life, but nothing as serious as the destruction of their home city. For the most part, everything was fine.

The orn had started like any other. Prowl and Smokescreen were gone early, Prowl to his job as Sentinel Prime's chief tactical officer and Smokescreen to Primus only knew where. Neither Bluestreak nor Idarassi were quite sure where or how Smokescreen spent his orns, and neither had ever asked. Prowl likely knew, but turned a careful blind optic to his cousin's vices and never spoke of it. Jazz likely knew too, but he was gone on a five-orn tour on Prowl's insistence. A tour Prowl had tried to get Bluestreak and Idarassi to go with him on.

With the house all to themselves, Bluestreak had fallen into the familiar routine of tidying up, keeping their home neat. Idarassi always accompanied him, helping out and keeping the smaller gray mech company. This orn, however, the half-serpent was hovering even closer than usual, frequently pausing to look around, glossa flicking, as if checking for something only he could sense. Nervousness was thick in his field.

"Prowl told you something," Bluestreak said conversationally. "He's been as wound up as a turbofox in a cyber-wolf's den for orns now."

"I don't give him much choice in that," the serpent-mech replied. "He knows I can smell stress on him and I will corner him until he spills what's going on. But this time... Something doesn't feel right. What, I'm not entirely sure. I just know something's not right." He ruffled his scales, easing a little closer to the younger mech.

Bluestreak paused to really look at his lover and long-time guardian. "The 'run away' kind or the 'curl up and hide' kind?"

The expression on Idarassi's face was one of frustration. "I'm not entirely sure. I just know something's _wrong_. But not specifically what."

There was a long silence as Bluestreak considered Idarassi, and his brother's tension. "Maybe we should have gone with Jazz."

"At the time there were no signs that anything was up; we couldn't have known," Idarassi pointed out. "And now... It would be too dangerous to venture out of the city." His tail looped loosely around the gray mech's legs. "All we can do is wait."

"We _could_ head into the lower levels, like where you hid before," Bluestreak suggested uneasily as a distant boom rocked the city.

::Ida. Protect Blue. It's begun.:: Prowl's voice was as cold and commanding as it was terrified. Then the comm went dead.

The sound of the boom had barely died away when Idarassi was all but wrapped around Bluestreak, trying to place the direction from which the sound had come. Distant as they were, he could pick up the vibrations coming through the ground. "Underground, or we could _try_ to make it to the military complex. It's better protected. I have an uncomfortable feeling that it's not safe here anymore."

"But the base is going to be a target," Bluestreak countered, far more afraid for his brother than himself at the moment. "Underground."

"That is true." The serpent-mech glanced out the window, spotting flashes of light reflecting in the distance. He nudged Bluestreak gently. "Let's grab what we can subspace before we get out of here."

"You grab for Prowl. I'll get us and Smokey," Bluestreak said as he bolted for his room.

Idarassi nodded, darting toward Prowl and Jazz's room. He immediately started stuffing his subspace with everything he could grab, making sure to get all of Prowl's most prized possessions and the few things he knew Jazz was proud of. He was quickly back out in the hallway, watching nervously through the window as more explosions ripped through the city, and strange airframes began appearing here and there.

He saw Bluestreak running towards him from Smokescreen's room with the cyber-cat Meko in a small carrying cage.

"Energon?" Bluestreak gasped out as they got on the lift to reach the ground floor.

"It would probably be a good idea, for us and for Meko." Idarassi nodded, heading for the kitchen storage area as soon as the lift stopped moving. "We don't know how long we'll have to hide. I can go for orns on a full tank, but you can't, and neither can the furry one."

They both packed as much energon and supplements as they could into their subspace, and Prowl's strategically positioned evacuation box, before they rode the main lift down to the lowest sub-floor it went to.

Around them they could both feel the vibrations of distant explosions as the fighting raged on. Idarassi shifted Bluestreak up onto his back as he eased out of the lift, checking his internal maps. There were tunnels down lower; perhaps one of them would be a better place. Instinct was insisting that hiding deeper would get them out of reach of the explosions. Against his back Bluestreak was trying not to tremble as memories of Praxus flashed back too fast to process as more than fear.

"Just don't leave me alone," Bluestreak whimpered, his grip on Idarassi tight with both hands and Meko's cage pressed between them.

"I won't leave you," the serpent-mech replied, iron promise in his voice. "Never again." Heading deeper into the tunnels, he found an entrance to an older, deeper level, pausing to check the scents wafting about before cautiously flowing in.

From all around them Idarassi could feel the expositions echoing through the strata of Cybertron, but while Bluestreak would have trouble doing more than locate the direction, he could feel that the expansion had slowed. It was still headed their way, but it seemed the destruction was largely contained near the Senate buildings and Prime's palace in one direction, and a smaller one at the military base.

Finding a good, sheltered spot with visible reinforcements, Idarassi settled in, shifting Bluestreak and Meko's carrier into his arms and curling his long tail around them, settling into a protected ball. All his sensors were alert for any signs of trouble, either from other mecha or from structural collapses. Humming softly to the younger mech and the nervous cybercat, the half-serpent gently rubbed a sensor wing.

"I hope Smokey and Prowl are all right," Bluestreak babbled nervously, leaning into the contact and trying to extend reassurance through his field to his pet. "I have no idea where Smokey might be, but Prowl's right in the middle of all that. I just know he is."

"I'm worried about them, too," the serpent-mech murmured, the soft glow of his yellow optics lighting the middle of the coil-ball. "Hopefully the other warriors will keep Prowl safe. Hopefully Smokescreen will be all right." He rubbed Bluestreak's back, slipping two fingers into the carrier to gently rub Meko's ears. The small feline pressed into the touch and purred in contentment.

"It's happening again," Bluestreak quivered as the rumbles of falling buildings came closer.

Idarassi hugged him tighter. "The collapses can't reach us down here, and I'm not going to leave you alone. I'm right here, and I'm staying right here."

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Prowl was in the thick of the battle, several of the senior warriors charged with keeping him alive and transmitting even as he shot down Seeker after Seeker. After Praxus, they were not just an enemy. They were _the_ enemy. Betraying kin. A part of Prowl that was still paying attention to the fate of the army and the city was grateful that taking out the enemy air force was also very good tactical sense for winning the battle and the war.

Joors into his sniping and three orns into the battle, Prowl's tactical processor drew his attention to a form high above the darting combat lines of airframes and marked it a priority target. He didn't question the result, or think that he could be wrong, or even consider that he might not hit a fast target at the extreme end of his weapon's range. He simply lifted his heavy sniper rifle and fired.

There was a shriek of pain and rage from high above as the winged form began to fall, trailing smoke. As it fell the red and white paint became visible. The Seeker tried to alter his vector, aiming to crash behind Decepticon lines rather than in the middle of the Autobot forces.

Literally out of nowhere a black Seeker appeared right in place to catch him, then vanished with Starscream in his arms. All around the Decepticon air forces shifted tactics with the leader that kept them focused gone. Many fled, others focused on keeping their own alive rather than protecting the ground forces.

::Autobots, press forward. The Seekers have faltered!:: Prowl roared his command with the authority few had seen him use but all now felt.

"Be ready. He'll be _the_ target now," one of Prowl's guards cautioned his squad-mates.

As predicted, Prowl did become a bigger target for having shot the Seeker commander out of the sky and the realization by the Decepticon commanders that he was now the driving force of the resistance. Despite their efforts, the Decepticons began losing ground, step by intensely-fought-over step, until Megatron called the retreat.

It was nearly another nine joors before Prowl grasped the full horror and significance of the battle.

The Prime was deactivated.

The Senate destroyed.

All of central Iacon and much of the wealthier sectors in ruins.

He was the highest ranking mecha still functioning in the city.

::Ida?:: He sent out a broadcast, desperately hoping his family had beaten the odds once more.

::Glad to hear your voice, Prowl,:: was the prompt response. ::Blue was worried about you. So was I, to tell the truth. Is the battle over?::

::Yes,:: Prowl allowed just how weary he was to creep into his voice as well as the relief that Idarassi had not reported any injuries. ::Did our home survive?::

::I'm actually not sure. Blue and I scooped up everything we could carry and went underground, like I did back in Praxus. We've been waiting for the fighting to stop before daring to venture back topside. Now that it's over, it should be safer to come back up, yes?:: Underground, the tight ball of Idarassi's coils was loosening, yellow optics peeking out between two loops of tail.

::As long as nothing falls on you,:: Prowl agreed. ::Be _careful_. We haven't cleared the city fully. He called retreat. That does not mean they are all gone.::

"It's over?" Bluestreak asked, quivering in hope. As long as the orns had been for Prowl, they had been even longer for Bluestreak and Idarassi, who had nothing to do but be curled up and wait.

::We will be careful,:: Idarassi promised. ::And Primus help the Decepticon who gets too close to me.::

He uncurled slowly, optics probing the shadows and glossa flicking busily. "Prowl says it's over... Megatron called a retreat. It should be possible to return to the surface now and see what's left up there, and if our home survived."

"I hope it is. We worked so hard to make it a _home_. It wasn't just where we recharged, you know?" Bluestreak rambled on as he cautiously stood up, pistons and cables protesting the movement after being stationary for so long.

::If it isn't perfectly intact, work your way to the base. It was hit hard, but it's where I'll be and where there are the most mecha I trust to be loyal enough to protect you.::

::Will do,:: the half-serpent confirmed as the line went to standby, Prowl unwilling to completely close it. His hand curled around Bluestreak's. "I also hope it's intact. Let's go find out, shall we."

The young Praxian nodded, gripping Meko's cage handle before shifting to straddle the first section of Idarassi's back behind his torso. "Let's find out. It's not going to get any better by delaying. I hope it's still home. I really don't know if I can build a third home."

Nodding his agreement, the serpent-mech began moving in the direction from which they had come, following his own scent trail and the scrape marks his underbelly scales had left on the ground. Bracing the end of his tail against the ground, he lifted himself back to the entrance to the upper level, making his way back to the lift they had come down. Carefully, he peered up the shaft, glossa flicking, checking for any scent of fire or collapse overhead.

There was a hint of smoldering steelcrete, but thickest in the air was the scent of dust and stale air.

Idarassi's scales rustled as he contemplated the scents, then backed away. "I don't think we'll be able to get back up that way. We'll have to take another route to the surface." Doubling back along his own length, he checked his map for another access point, moving toward it.

"Then our home is gone," Bluestreak whimpered, folding his wings tightly against his back and huddling over Meko's cage.

"It's looking that way," the half-serpent agreed softly, wrapping his field around Bluestreak. "We'll know for sure once we get topside. Prowl wants us to head for the base if there's nothing left of our home." Cursing the exploding war under his ventilations, Idarassi began making his way up through the other sub-levels, aiming for the closest surface access away from the city center where the devastation had been concentrated.

He moved, selecting tunnels and paths carefully until he caught the scent of truly fresh air from his right. Three and a half joors after Prowl had contacted him Idarassi carefully poked his helm out of a culvert to a fairly undamaged section of the city. Yellow optics peeked carefully as he tasted the air while keeping most of himself in the shadows, using his camouflage pattern to stay almost invisible. It was odd in that moment that Bluestreak's natural dark colors blended in nearly as well, though his chattering ruined any hope of him being unnoticed. Only once Idarassi was sure there was no danger lurking too close did he slowly emerge, claws bared, ready to move at a moment's notice if he had to. Slinking from piece of cover to piece of cover, he surveyed what he could see of the city.

Empty, was the first thing that crossed his processors. Unlike Praxus, these buildings seemed undamaged, but there was no one about.

::Idarassi, report,:: Prowl opened the line. ::Signal strength indicates you are on the surface.::

::There's nothing left of our home... Could smell from the tunnels that the building had collapsed. Blue and I are fine, and we even have Meko with us. We just came to the surface. The area where we are is... unnervingly empty.:: The serpent-mech's glossa tips flicked over his lower lip, checking for stray scents, then pressed against the sensor cluster in the roof of his mouth to thoroughly analyze them. ::We'll be heading in the direction of the base shortly.::

::Good. The order is for all citizens to remain in their dwellings unless it is unsafe,:: Prowl said. ::You should not encounter many. We are sweeping the city. Be ready if Autobot forces challenge you.::

::I will be. And I'll be ready to defend myself and Blue if there are any stray enemies skulking around.:: Idarassi took a moment to check his positioning system, then began moving toward the base.


	17. Building Bonds

**Into the Light 08: Building Bonds**  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ =================== ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Prowl sat in his chair at the center of the tactical center that had been crafted to his exacting specifications, but he wasn't seeing anything. He didn't hear the reports coming in from agents, satellites and systems all over Cybertron. He was so far gone in shock that he didn't even feel the new Prime, a military politician now known as Zeta Prime, enter and walk up to him.

All he could process was the loop of data that was inconsequential to most but meant everything to him.

"He was important to you," Zeta Prime spoke evenly, his deep voice and nature drawing Prowl enough out of his shock to nod faintly.

"My mate. We were going to bond soon," Prowl whispered, his sensor wings locked at attention along with his frame. Only his voice and field betrayed him.

"I grieve for your loss," the Prime responded evenly. "He is with Primus now."

"Yes," Prowl whispered as something inside him silently snapped. A quiet, steady calm descended on him from his processors outward. "He is in a better place now. Now I must do my duty before I can consider joining him."

Without so much as an acknowledgement to the powerful being he supposedly served, Prowl focused on the data streaming through his station by plugging into it. His frame faded in importance as he turned his full attention, unhindered by emotions or morals, to decisively ending the war quickly.

SxSxSxSxSxSxSxSx S===================S SxSxSxSxSxSxSxS

Processor function returned slowly, sluggishly, or at least that was what it felt like to Jazz as he booted up. Really it was functioning extremely efficiently for the amount of new data it was having to process and assimilate.

He sounded like Prowl with that thought.

Prowl.

Jazz's spark clenched, functioning on a completely different level from rational thought. The extraction had been a spur of the moment thing, the cleanest and most efficient route had been for him to die. If his mate had heard that, only that, if no one else had bothered to tell him anything...

Jazz struggled to boot up faster, the need to know and worry for Prowl burning in him.

"Calm down," the now familiar voice of the Autobot's CMO ordered gruffly. "Everything went fine."

"Not me I'm worried 'bout." Jazz countered when he finally found his voice, so different from before, and got his optics to boot as well.

The rest of his motor controls had yet to kick in, but the medic standing him over him was in clear view at least. "Prowl." He added, still working on speaking but trying to explain.

"Still immersed in Tactical," Whiplash's voice came from the right, out of view for now. The SpecOps' commander was as calm and collected as always. Prowl had once described him as a stone cold sparkless assassin. In this moment, Jazz finally felt that detachment from the living for the first time.

"Does he know?" Jazz demanded, trying to sit up and get a look at the mech that had been his handler since he had started gathering data for the Autobots.

The nearly massless matte black mech, more walking shadow than being, was not much taller than a minibot and half the mass of one, focused on Jazz through a faintly reflective black visor. "No. He's kept himself busy."

"Not good." Jazz growled, glaring at Whiplash and then at Ratchet when the medic tried to hold him back. "I need to see him."

"Not until I am done making sure everything's integrated correctly." Ratchet growled in return, only to have his hand shoved away by Jazz.

"I'm functioning fine." The small mech countered, his now silver and black finish gleaming in the bright overhead lights as he moved.

"You. Down." Ratchet used his greater mass and long familiarity with dealing with difficult patients to push the lightly built but well armored silver mech down. "Whiplash _will_ fetch Prowl. Now." He glared at the mech who theoretically ranked him outside the medical quarter.

"Sure," Whiplash agreed with a shrug as he turned. "Be right back, even if I have to drag him by the wings."

Jazz stopped struggling as soon as Whiplash was out the door, though his field revealed that he did not entirely trust the SpecOps mech to do as he said he would. "How is Prowl?" he demanded of Ratchet again.

"He's still functioning," Ratchet grunted as he let Jazz go. "He hasn't recharged, or moved from that seat in tactical since before he learned of Jazz's deactivation. Only thing he's good about is demanding enough energon to keep up. I'd have stasis locked the glitch orns ago if I hadn't been so busy with you."

"Stubborn aft." Jazz swore, though the report didn't surprise him at all.

"A stubborn aft who is likely to be _furious_ when he finally believes who you are," Ratchet warned. "I know you've been close for a long time, but you haven't seen him the way I have. He's a dangerous mech when he's angry. He's going to be very angry soon."

"I know." Jazz answered, going still. That was the one thought he had been avoiding, the fear he didn't want to face.

That even after he convinced Prowl that he wasn't dead, his lover would never forgive him.

His processors were still there when the door to the private recovery room opened to Whiplash leading a _very_ displeased looking Prowl. Other than the scowl, it was clear that Prowl hadn't seen a washrack in orns. He might have just been sitting, but the tiny scuffs in his paint and dust dulling his finish were painfully obvious to Jazz.

"Prowl, this is Velli," Whiplash introduced the silver and black mech on the medberth next to Ratchet.

"So?" Prowl's scowl deepened, his wings entirely too still for anyone's good. "I have _work_ to do."

At the sight of his love, the cold lack of emotion that Jazz knew he was the cause of, he froze for a moment. He didn't want to face the possible consequences of what had happened, but he had to do something.

"Prowl." The voice was wrong, his vocalizer altered with his appearance, but the _tone_ and the _inflection_ were all Jazz. "I'm sorry."

It was enough to draw Prowl attention and focus it. "For what?"

"For hurting you." Primus, how did he put this to the mech he loved with all his spark. "I'm not dead."

Genuine puzzlement flicked across Prowl's features, even reaching his sensor wings. "We have never met before."

Jazz slid from the berth, moving closer so that when he reached out with his field it touched the Praxian. The tightly controlled pain had a hate-filled edge to it that promised much pain to his targets and not much of the patient, reasonable and caring nature that Jazz treasured so much. "We've known each other for a very long time. You saved me when I had nowhere else to go."

Prowl's scowl returned, even deeper than before. It was a visible warning of his rapidly shortening temperament. "Velli. I have had a very bad decaorn. Whatever you intend to say to me, _say it_ and let me get back to work."

The small silver mech stepped closer and shoved his field against Prowl's, full of apology and love and devotion. The Praxian took a step back, his wings flared in anger and his field pushed back hard in rejection.

"I do not know who you think I am to you, but if you believe my mate's deactivation has made me available, you are seriously mistaken," Prowl actually growled, his clawed hand flexing as he debated just how much damage he could get away with doing with Ratchet standing there.

"I'm Jazz. The Decepticons caught on to me, and the only way to get out was to make it look like I was deactivated," he explained desperately.

Prowl shifted his focus to Whiplash and Ratchet. "Out." The order was given in as cold a voice as Jazz had ever heard, but not one that seemed to surprise either of the other mechs. It was an order that was obeyed quickly and silently, even by Ratchet, who gave Jazz a pitying look on his way out.

With the witnesses gone, Prowl stepped into Jazz's personal space, his pain-fueled rage no longer checked by any social protocols. A sudden motion had Prowl's hand around Jazz's throat, the military upgrades making him easily strong enough to crush it as he backed the slightly smaller mech against the wall. "You have one hundred and twenty nanokliks to convince me not to kill you."

The mech in his grasp didn't struggle, didn't even try to fight. Reflex had hands around Prowl's wrist, but that was as far as it went, the field still freely extended for Prowl to feel filled with acceptance of the anger and rage directed at it.

Instead of words there was the sound of armor unlocking and sliding away, revealing a gold tinged sky blue spark. A blue visor looked squarely into Prowl's optics. "It's yours. Do what you will."

That made Prowl pause, his rage flickering briefly. Not at the offer, he'd more than half expected that, but at the perfect physical match for the spark he knew so well. Memories could be changed. Protocols uploaded and deleted. Frames and hardware, even processors could be changed out. The only part of a Cybertronian that could not be altered was their spark, and every spark was unique.

Prowl gave a fractional pause, staring at that spark, then unlocked his own chest plates.

The crystal spark chamber spiraled open, making good on the offer. The spark was Prowl's, to accept or end at his discretion, and the smaller mech simply waited in silence. He watched as Prowl's spark chamber spiraled open, freeing the ice blue spark inside. It reached out for the spark so familiar to it, even as the processors it powered were in denial that this could be his love.

The contact was accepted, sought after as leaders reached for each other and pulled close in desperate contact. Jazz's end was full of apology, sorry, so sorry.

Offered was everything for Prowl. The truth that it had literally come down to making it look as though he had been deactivated or actually being deactivated at the hands of the Decepticon agents after him. Of his last memories of blacking out, and then waking like he was now, worried and concerned for his mate.

Prowl's spark accepted it, embracing its mate willingly. Prowl was far more wary. He had not been hurt so much as shattered, his reasons for remaining functional a pale whisper of what they had been. Vengeance, Bluestreak, Ida and Smokescreen. The dreams of rebuilding his family's wealth and status, of rebuilding Praxus, the Praxian culture and lineage abandoned.

From deep inside, Prowl's spark whispered to Jazz to hold on to Prowl and their love. To allow the processors that coped with strong emotion so poorly time to adapt to the changes that had been thrown at it.

Jazz's spark answered, embracing and holding Prowl close, gently reminding it of everything that they had built, reinforcing that it was not lost.

Despite the drive of the processors, Prowl's spark embraced Jazz tenderly, full of affection, relief and promises that this would be repaired, if Jazz could just be strong enough not to let Prowl slip away no matter how hard the Praxian tried.

Somewhere in the mass of conflicting messages was a clear memory, one Prowl tried to snatch back but couldn't. The words he'd spoken to Zeta Prime.

_My mate. We were going to bond soon._

_Yes_.

Jazz's spark answered, wanting. Revealing how long he had been waiting for that, but never pushing, always respecting Prowl's desires. But hoping the entire time that some orn Prowl would allow it.

~It won't be soon, not now,~ Prowl rumbled despite his spark's protests. ~Why not come to me to plan this?~

~I got cocky, too confident.~ Jazz admitted. ~A plan was made so that there was one, down to my rebuild. But not looking far enough ahead...it's always been my weakness love. You know that.~

~But I am the tactician. Planning for emergencies is what I _do_,~ Prowl nearly cried out. ~Why trust another with your survival and not me?~

~You were supposed to know.~ There was a moment of anger and confusion as that suddenly registered with Jazz. ~That was part of the deal.~

Prowl followed it and calmed now as his anger and sense of betrayal found a focus. ~Whiplash has _much_ to answer for,~ he growled.

~There's more.~ Jazz admitted, nuzzling hesitantly into Prowl as he felt the anger shift. ~Part of the price for getting me out...is me enlisting.~

~They got you into the mess and they demand a payment for getting you out?~ Prowl's outrage roared between them. While not focused on Jazz at all, Jazz was the only being to feel it in that initial moment. ~Enlist as what?~ He demanded.

The sheer force of the emotions left Jazz's spark quivering, flinching away from the strength of his mate's reaction. The answer, when it finally came, was barely a whisper. ~Spec Ops.~

~Going to _destroy_ him,~ Prowl snarled, trying to pull out of the merge to track down the mech who dared demand such a thing of his mate.

~Prowl!~ Jazz held him tighter, struggling to find the light in his mate's spark and hold him there. Grief raced through him at what he had driven Prowl to, however unintentional.

Despite how badly his processors wanted to go and _hurt_ Whiplash, how hurt he was right now, he couldn't deny his mate's spark like this. He stopped pulling away and sank deeper into the merge, not hiding his feelings of pain, betrayal and anger, but also not hiding how deeply he loved Jazz.

~Don't go.~ Jazz pleaded as his spark took everything bright and warm they'd had and flung it at its mate, wrapping Prowl in just how deeply Jazz needed him, how he had only hoped to help bring this war to an end.

A silent sob of sorts, a hiccupping of his vents, escaped Prowl before he intentionally sank fully into the merge, intending to overload, but also intending to buy himself enough time to process everything. Emotional outbursts never worked well.

It was a chance they both needed as Jazz's spark rose to meet his, energy flaring between them as both sparks seemed to explode for a moment before settling once more. It left both mechs in slight confusion as the overload hit fast and hard, driven by the sparks rather than internal heat and charge. There was little heat to dissipate from the slack frames as their chests parted slightly and the armor settled back in place automatically.

Even if they'd been aware, neither mech would have cared if anyone saw them sprawled half upright against the wall and floor and each other.

In the medical monitoring room, Ratchet stood with a deadly shadow, watching the couple on the monitors.

"I hope this works out for you," Ratchet commented. "You just made yourself one pit of an enemy. Prowl's not a mech I want to cross."

"I can control him," Whiplash said smugly. "He's not that manipulative."

The Autobot CMO snorted but remained silent.

SxSxSxSxSxSxSxSx S===================S SxSxSxSxSxSxSxS

Bluestreak was still getting used to living on base, in officer's quarters, without being an officer, or even an Autobot. With Prowl's new rank after the assault on Iacon, Prowl had the right to make such demands rather than live off base. This wasn't the first time that Bluestreak had gotten the distinct impression a lot of mecha were pleased with Prowl's choice ... and not just because it mean the Chief Tactical Officer was always safe. Now that he was feeling better, Bluestreak rather liked living on base too. It meant he got to socialize with so many more mecha who were likely to be friendly.

You never knew who you were going to meet out there, but here the mecha to avoid not only wore their 'don't talk to me' temperament clearly, but were well known and part of the orientation package. Though some of them Bluestreak wasn't sure why they were labeled as mecha to stay away from. Especially Gears. Sure the minibot was grumpy and volatile a lot of the time, but he wasn't _dangerous_ unless you did something stupid to trigger him.

All that thought came to a general halt when Bluestreak had to focus to break his brother's security code. They were a _lot_ tougher here, but it was just as fun.

The door slid open and he walked in. "Hey Br..."

Warm blue optics went wide at the sight of his brother behind his desk, chair pushed away to make room for the smaller silver and black mech riding his spike. As he watched the stranger leaned forward, catching Prowl's lips in a passionate kiss that his brother returned eagerly as one of the mech's hands moved from a supportive shoulder grip to trace along a sensor wing.

Prowl moaned, a deep, reverberating sound from his powerful engine as much as his vocalizer.

Bluestreak knew without a doubt that Prowl knew he was there and he stepped fully into the room to let the door close behind him when he wasn't growled at or ordered to leave. It was still a shock to see his brother with anyone other than Jazz, even more so this soon after losing his mate, but at least it meant that Prowl had not given up on _living_.

"Shall we give him a real show?" The silver mech asked his lover, not bothering to look at the intruder before his glossa found Prowl's chevron.

Ice blue optics flickered and turned off as Prowl trembled and rolled his hips into his lover's movements. "Yes," he moaned breathily. "Oh Primus, what you do to me."

Fingers traced lightly down Prowl's chest. "Open for me." Jazz requested, frame still flowing with the motions between them.

A shudder passed down Prowl's frame as his chest unlocked. Just as quickly Bluestreak was in motion. He rushed the lovers to grab the silver mech and pull him away with all his strength. Jazz reached out to snag the back of the chair reflexively, anchoring himself against the pull to keep from injuring Prowl even as his supple frame bent.

"Don't you _dare_ take advantage of my brother's hurt," Bluestreak hissed in Jazz's audio as he commed Idarassi to get to Prowl's quarters _now_.

Shock and denial flared brightly in him as the bulk of his attention shifted to the other Praxian, gaze focusing in an instant on Bluestreak. "Never."

"Bluestreak," Prowl found his voice and balance quickly. "Let him go. Let us explain."

"You don't need to explain needing release after the past few orns," Bluestreak tried to sooth his brother. "But your spark?"

"That is Jazz, rebuilt," Prowl got to his pedes and retracted his spike. "His deactivation was a charade. A poorly done one I was not informed of until a few joors ago."

Bluestreak stared between his brother and the stranger with the familiar feeling field before focusing on Prowl. "You're _sure_ this is really Jazz?"

"Yes," Prowl put a hand on his brother's shoulder and another on Jazz's. "We must call him Velli in public for now."

Bluestreak's engine grumbled, displaying his distress and displeasure when Idarassi nearly broke the door open in his rush to get in.

"Everything is all right," Prowl promised the serpent-mec.

Idarassi took in the scene with senses that no one else had. His forked glossa flicked in and out rapidly before he eased the rest of the way inside so the door could close.

Jazz remained still under Prowl's hand, not wishing to distress Bluestreak any more in the moment or set Idarassi off before things could be at least somewhat properly explained. "It's me, Blue, Ida. Prowl's checked." His field reached out to brush with warmth and affection against Prowl's as he continued. "But you deserve an explanation."

Idarassi got close and flicked his glossa out, lightly brushing against Jazz's cheek, then brought it in to press against the special sensor cluster on the roof of his oral cavity. "As odd as he looks, he _tastes_ of Jazz," he said cautiously.

"All right," Bluestreak relented and let Jazz go, willing to believe if both his brother and lover believed. "I'm sorry. I really thought you were a stranger, or at best a pleasurebot."

"Neither, I hope." Was the reply, all Jazz in its sense of humor as the silver mech's field settled more, expanding in offering to Bluestreak and Idarassi, inviting to feel and confirm for themselves.

"The last tour I was on went...badly." Jazz said, summing up doubts and suspicions on how and why that he and Prowl both shared in a word. "They had to get me out quickly, and Prowl was not informed of what was going on. I was not aware of this until I woke up from the rebuild several orns afterward."

"I didn't believe until our sparks touched," Prowl murmured. "That close, that perfect ... I was willing to be deluded if it was a trick by either group." He glanced at Idarassi. "It is nice to know your senses agree with my spark."

"I expect the plans you had to tell us were diverted when you got alone," Idarassi chuckled as he slithered to curl around his own lover, enjoying the way Bluestreak leaned into his coils with a deep sense of content safety.

"Rather completely," Prowl admitted as he drew Jazz close. "He is Velli in public, but he is my Jazz when it is family."

"Always." Jazz agreed with a chuckle, leaning into Prowl contentedly, a part of him still deeply relieved that Prowl had accepted him back. Amusement flickered through his field. "There is going to be talk all over the base with you having a new lover, love."

"They'll assume I'm on the rebound, or desperate for a warm berth," Prowl shook his helm. Noting that Bluestreak and Idarassi were moving towards the door he claimed Jazz's mouth in a heated kiss. "I think most are just glad I'm not going to be in the tactical center 42 joors an orn."

"I am sure you made everyone's functioning a living Pit like that." Jazz murmured, melting into the kiss.

"So I am told," Prowl rumbled as he guided Jazz towards the berth. "I want your spark and valve right now."

Silver armor shivered under Prowl's hands in eager agreement, Jazz twisting in the Praxian's arms to nip playfully at his lover's neck. "Think you can handle both at once?" He teased.

"We're going to find out," Prowl rumbled hotly as he gently pressed his lover to the berth and climbed on top of him. "I want you every way I can have you," he stated with a demanding kiss.

Jazz laughed, his field bright with agreement as he reached around to play with the sensor panels flared so delightfully in his field of vision.

Prowl moaned and pressed the sensitive appendages into the touch, shivering in pleasure and the desire to be with this mech. He was still having trouble with the visual and let his optics flicker off in pleasure. He knew in his spark this was his Jazz. The rest would come with time.

"Don't like my choice of colors love?" Jazz asked softy as he took both wings, hands stroking down towards the base.

Another moan preceded the answer. "Not that," he shivered at the stimulation and kissed his mate. "The rebuild ... even your face is different. I just need time to get used to it."

"Sorry." Jazz murmured softly, hands working over his lover's wings still, wanting to see Prowl's pleasure at least, and do as much as he could to remind his love that he was here, real, and very much in love.

"Your only fault in this is trusting in Whiplash," Prowl sighed in pleasure before kissing his love again. "I know it's you." He slid his spike cover open, the desire honest as it always was.

"Always, for you." Jazz nuzzled his love's face, valve cover sliding at the same time. "Never want to leave you."

"Never want you to leave," Prowl murmured as he slid inside his lover, both spike and valve still slick from before. "You feel so good."

Jazz moaned, hips rolling up to meet each thrust of his love as his field blended once more with Prowl's. The deep feeling, loving and craving. He trusted Prowl, the one mech he had always been able to trust. "Share with you."

"Always," Prowl moaned into a kiss as his chest plates unlocked and slid open, no longer hesitating or afraid as he had been the first few times.

Desire echoed between them, sparks reaching for each other before they were even fully exposed. With every touch, every merge, Jazz learned more of his love, was reminded of how much Prowl loved him.

A love that still awed him, down to his very core.

It was an awe that Prowl echoed. Never before his first merge with Jazz did he actually _believe_ he could be loved unconditionally. He had long thought that it was an emotion built like a contract, with give and take for each party, not something that _happened_. Give and take was part of being in love, but it was not what caused the love, or sustained it. It was built, was able to grow, and able to wither and die.

But the brightness that Jazz had shown him was that love was something that was given with nothing demanded in return. And perhaps the hardest thing, was that there was no logical reason for how or why. Though that fact made it no less true or real, it did make it more difficult for Prowl to understand. Yet in being shown that love, Prowl recognized it in himself and no longer questioned what the sensation was.

~And I love you.~ Jazz murmured across the momentary bond created by their merge, savoring the dual pleasure from his valve and spark, then moaned as the pleasure from Prowl's frame and spark began to weave into his awareness.

~As I love you,~ Prowl whispered silently, no less in awe of the truth than the first time he realized it.

~Together.~ Jazz answered. When they had faced things together, they had overcome. His hands came to reach around, seeking to bring his mate more pleasure and find the peace they were both seeking. Flickering among the thoughts prominent enough in Prowl's awareness to cross the merge was an odd combination of Jazz's spark orbited by a tiny light and the sentiment of safety.

For a sparkbeat Jazz froze, then a quiver ran through him. He knew what he was _seeing_, but- "Prowl...?"

The Praxian stilled. "It would keep you out of the field."

"And close to you." Jazz said as he kissed him, thinking. Doubt and fear whispered along the merge. Against Prowl's back Jazz's hands flexed.

Trust.

~If you think it is a good idea.~

~I ... am not sure,~ he admitted. ~It improves our survival rate if one of us is extinguished in the war. It will keep you safe for longer. The family finances can handle it easily. Those are not reasons one should kindle. Bonding would be enough to keep you safe. I could help you if you ever get in trouble again, without bringing innocent sparks into a war.~

~I want a family with you, one orn.~ Jazz admitted. ~And Primus knows when this war will end.~

~Now would be the time to bond and kindle, before you begin training or are sent out on a real mission,~ Prowl shuddered in a mixture of pleasure and stress. ~In that order.~

~Will bond with you whenever you are ready.~ Jazz swore, picking out the one thing in that statement that was easy for him to be sure of.

~I never want to doubt your status again,~ Prowl's very spark quivered, still recovering from the perceived loss and what it had caused him to begin. Across the merge came Prowl's answer, more desperate plea than words.

_Now._

~Yes.~ Jazz answered, suddenly calm as all of his attention focused on that one thing. Agreement without hesitation or reservation answered Prowl's plea.

Jazz had wanted this for a very long time. He had thought it through, considered it from every angle, weighed all the positives and negatives in his processor. And it had all come down to offer his spark freely the moment his mate was ready. This close, he knew his mate was not ready in the way he was, but Prowl had approached this no less carefully for the speed at which he had chosen and was no less certain that it was a choice he would not regret.

It was that matching agreement, the complete belief that the bond was what they wanted that made the merge smoothly sink deeper than ever before. To Jazz, Prowl's spark had long been open, with strong tendrils from his processors, but never before had Prowl allowed him all the way in. Though it was only a spark contact, Jazz felt Prowl guide him along the thought trails that connected spark and processor, opening up to his mate.

Offering him what he had never dared to offer anyone: a glimpse at what pure bliss was to him.

Silence. Numbers. Data. The flow of probabilities and possibilities that stretched out to infinity. The private amusement Prowl took in playing that in reverse and calculating the present with a change in history, often a small change. It was pure theory, and it was Prowl's haven, his joy, his gift from Primus. As difficult as interacting with people was much of the time for him, it wasn't for lack of understanding their emotions, drives or needs and wants. It was that the scope of his reality was too broad for him to fully grasp how others existed in their relatively minuscule worlds.

Wonder flowed from Jazz at the sudden insight. He had always known that his mate functioned on a different level from anyone else that Jazz had ever met. That was part of what had drawn him to the Praxian in the first place.

Acceptance of what made Prowl who he was followed, along with the knowledge that he might never fully understand, but that was willing anyway.

~As long as I am enough.~ He offered, opening up his own limitations to his mate. His tendency to make spur of the moment decisions, often without rhyme or reason, or even rational thought at times. His view of the world, an ever-shifting place of light, color and sound with one constant.

Prowl.

~You have long been enough,~ Prowl replied warmly, guiding Jazz to a special part of his processor. It was one reserved at all times for one thing: Jazz.

What Jazz did. What Jazz liked. What made Jazz uncomfortable. What made Jazz smile. Intense calculations on how to make Jazz smile more often.

~I will never see the world as you do, and I treasure you all the more for it,~ Prowl promised. ~You are the variable that keeps my existence interesting, pleasurable, joyful. Seeing and hearing you perform brings me great joy because it brings you joy. I do not need to understand why it is pure joy for you, only that it is.~

Jazz's spark trembled, the ripple running through the connection in a flood of emotion unchecked. ~Take it. Take me.~ He pleaded, offering everything to the mech that had always been everything he needed when he needed it most.

~Only in trade for me,~ Prowl whispered before their mutual will sealed their fate, entwining it for the rest of their functioning as sparks shifted and merged into one that became two halves, never to be fully parted again.

SxSxSxSxSxSxSxSx S===================S SxSxSxSxSxSxSxS

Jazz woke slowly, more at peace than he could ever remember being. And it only took a nanoklik for him to register why. The warmth in his spark, a place that was now forever Prowl's, glowed bright and new.

He reached out to touch it without thinking, reveling in something that he had craved for so long.

~I like this feeling a great deal,~ Prowl purred across the connection that now existed even with their sparks protected inside their armor.

~Good, since it is a little late to do anything about it.~ Jazz teased, joy and delight dancing back to his bonded. ~And your brother is going to be delighted.~

Prowl laughed. ~I'm sure. My cousin will lose his mind. He'll know I bonded to Jazz, but he can't tell the betting pool who Velli really is.~

That hadn't occurred to Jazz, but left him laughing as he thought about it. ~Poor Smokescreen. Serves him right though.~

~His bets have served the family well,~ Prowl tempered his amusement. ~It's why I tolerate his shady connections. But yes, it's going to be entertaining to watch him realize he won, only he can't say so for some time. How long do you have to be Velli?~

~Until it no longer serves a purpose.~ Jazz answered after considering for a while. ~Which I would guess would be when the war is over, or when someone finds out that Jazz wasn't really deactivated and it's no longer a secret.~

He sighed and burrowed closer to Prowl. ~Going to miss performing.~

~There's no reason you couldn't perform here and in local clubs,~ Prowl nuzzled him through their sparks as he shifted to claim a physical kiss. ~You'd need to start over again, working with popular songs and make a few changes to your performances, but Jazz was famous enough that few will think of a beginner imitating him as unusual. It wouldn't be difficult to ensure that Velli's performance records predate Jazz's deactivation. It would even be a convenient way for us to have met.~

~And make your choice of rebound all the more believable?~ Jazz asked as he deepened the kiss, already delighted with this new aspect of their bond.

~With Jazz gone so often, we may well have been having an affair for some time. No one would be surprised that I could keep such activities secret,~ Prowl offered, less sure about it, but putting the thought out anyway. It was well known that he'd been with Hardline for vorns while with Jazz after all.

~We'll worry about making up a story if it becomes an issue.~ Jazz said, reaching around to find one of Prowl's sensor wings curiously as he continued. ~There is enough scandal around here regularly that one more is hardly going to be noticed, whatever your rank.~

~Perhaps,~ Prowl moaned as pleasure rushed into his sensor net. ~However the best stories are those created and evidence placed long before they become an issue.~

~If you say so love.~ Jazz answered, shivering slightly as he continued his investigation.

~The tactician says so,~ Prowl shifted away from his bonded mate to lay flat on his front, spreading both wings in pleading temptation.

Jazz laughed in delight, moving so that he was straddling his mate's hips and had full access to those wonderful wings. His hands moved in mirror motion over each wing, sliding along the flat planes with even pressure and dipping into the seams to play with the fine wires and receptors located there. He'd always known it felt good, good enough to draw an overload from Prowl almost as quickly as a spike or valve, but he'd never grasped _how_ good.

Each touch brought a torrent of sensations across the bond as Prowl focused on sending what he felt, on sharing how wonderful Jazz made him feel. In with the physical was the emotional. While spike and valve were intimate, a source of pleasure, wings were so much more. Almost all of the physical information not gathered by Prowl's optics, hands or pedes came from those wings. Balance, proximity, temperature, air composition and a million more details. More importantly, every Praxian was far more aware of the intense pain they could report because they were so prominently out in the world to be bumped, grabbed and injured. Things that were unlikely to ever happen to interfacing gear. It made offering thing a far more intimate and trusting act than any normal interface.

"Never want to hurt you." Jazz said, leaning forward to kiss the side of Prowl's helm before shifting his attention to base of Prowl's wings where they joined his frame.

~Never thought you did,~ Prowl moaned and pressed into the contact, his frame nearly whining at the cascade of sensation and the pleasure of trusting so fully. The bond, fully open and the desire to share fully enhancing it, impressed on Jazz how completely his mate did trust him. How much that trust meant to Prowl to give, how slowly it had built over the vorns. Prowl loved Jazz because Prowl felt he could and did trust Jazz fully. None of it was news to either of them, but it was yet another thing that warmed Jazz's spark to be reminded of so honestly.

~Then enjoy.~ Was the reply as a knowing and skilled glossa dipped in to join the fingers that were playing over every inch of Prowl's wings and sensor suite where they joined his back. ~Want to feel how much you like this.~

Prowl shuddered and surrendered in a process that Jazz had never completely understood but was beginning to grasp. To overload meant Prowl _had_ to turn off several systems designed to protect his advanced tactical computer as well as the computer and its subsystems. The power-hungry hardware could not only absorb the charge that would overload a normal mech, but it had its own storage system for when Prowl was low on energy that could absorb and store far more.

It was that facet more than any other that made Prowl disinclined to interface casually. Turning off such an integrated system was distressing. Yet through the bond Jazz not only realized the full impact of driving Prowl to overload, but understood that Prowl welcomed it with a lover he trusted. It felt good on a unique level to become a much simpler mecha for a few moments, and then loose himself completely to the pleasure.

Jazz shivered, riding the waves of pleasure flowing over the bond and the charge through shared frames, reveling in the feel of his mate's overload and the fact that he could bring that about.

As Prowl settled he leaned down to nuzzle him once more. ~Thank you.~

~Love you,~ Prowl mumbled, his tactical computer still off as he lazed in the hazy warmth of the post-overload tingle. ~You balance me.~

~And you give me life.~ Jazz responded, laying against his mates frame and basking in the warm and affection, one hand stroking gently along a wing still.

Through the bond Jazz felt Prowl's hum of acceptance and sense that it was a fair trade. Then there was a distinct shift in Prowl's thought pattern as the tactical computer booted and asserted its influence. It was definitely still Prowl, but a more focused, organized, logical Prowl that was goal oriented. The traits he'd always had, only sharpened.

Even so, Prowl felt regret when an alarm pinged him.

"My shift begins in two breems," Prowl sighed. "I must clean up and go."

"I'll help." Jazz said, moving to allow his bonded. The thought that Prowl _was_ his bonded was enough to make his spark sing as he followed Prowl to the quarter's private washrack.

SxSxSxSxSxSxSxSx S===================S SxSxSxSxSxSxSxS

Jazz sipped at his energon, smiling as he talked with Bluestreak and Ida. Even though the younger Praxian knew who he was and they were in private Jazz was still insisting that they call him by his new designation. Better to get Bluestreak in the habit now, when it might prevent slip-ups in public later. He could tell by just how easily Idarassi made the shift that he knew why and agreed.

A ping from his mate had his instant attention even though their still open bond showed no distress.

::Ratchet wishes to see us both immediately. Will you meet me in medical?:: Prowl's calm voice came once the line was open.

::Of course. I was sitting here with Blue and Ida. Trying to get Blue in the habit of calling me Velli. I'll meet ya there.:: Jazz responded, sending a wave of love over the bond simply because he could.

"Blue, Ida. I need to run. Apparently Ratchet wants to see me and Prowl." He said, rising and nodding to the pair.

"Probably about the bond. To make sure it's stable and all," Bluestreak happily babbled about such an exciting event in the family, only a little sad there wouldn't be a huge celebration with all their friends, families and allies there. "See you later, Velli." He added before Jazz slipped away.

It was a quiet trip to the medical sector. This base was large enough and with a shifting population that few bothered to do more than glance at an unfamiliar face and frame.

Prowl met him outside of Ratchet's domain and it occurred to Jazz that they both must have altered their pace to make that happen, only he knew he hadn't thought about it.

"This is going to take some getting used to." He commented quietly to Prowl as they entered the medical wing. "Not that I am objecting."

"Neither am I," Prowl smiled, ever so faintly. He was still very much in on duty mode, even if Jazz brought out a softness that few others saw.

"In." Ratchet snarled at the pair with a jab of a finger towards his office.

Prowl simply nodded and complied, Jazz on his heels and already steeling himself to face what he suspected was going to be the lecture of the vorn. When the door closed and locked behind Ratchet, the CMO jabbed his finger at a pair of chairs and Prowl sat down quietly. Instead of following Prowl's example this time Jazz came up behind his mate's chair, wrapping his arms around his mate's neck and resting his helm against Prowl's. Prowl's side of the bond hummed with pleasure at Jazz's closeness, though his full attention was on the mech glaring at them.

"What in the _Pit of Unicron_ where you two thinking?" Ratchet verbally rounded on them.

"Bonding? That is was, and still is, a very good idea." Jazz answered, looking up at Ratchet.

"You could have _deactivated_ yourselves," the CMO snarled at them. "There's a _reason_ medical scans are required for a legal bonding."

Under Jazz's hands, Prowl stiffened, his shock radiating from more than just the bond. "We did not deactivate," Prowl insisted.

"Because you're lucky," the medic glowered at them. "If your sparks were only 0.0364 hertz further off, you would have."

Confusion, fear, and relief ran through Jazz as he tried to process that. Relief that he had not hurt Prowl, fear that he might still somehow, and utter confusion as he stared at Ratchet. "Why? Our sparks aren't...compatible?"

"It's a very near thing," the medic seemed to settle a bit, somewhat gratified by their shock. "I wouldn't have signed off on this." He zeroed in on Prowl. "And I'd bet a metacycle's pay you knew that."

"I was aware of the regulations," Prowl acknowledged. "Not their cause."

"Are there other possible side effects?" Jazz pushed, still worried as he unconsciously leaned against his mate through the bond. Prowl responded with wordless reassurance and support.

The medic muttered and sighed as he leaned against his desk. "Shortened life expectancy, difficulty kindling, increased chance of complications while carrying, increased chance of spark failure under extreme duress."

"It is worth it," Prowl said with determination. "Our life expectancy is improved during the war by our ability to rely on each other. The chance of spark failure is reduced by the bond."

"I hate tacticians," Ratchet mumbled to himself as he glared much promised pain the next time Prowl visited in need of attention.

~Maybe not tell him that we are thinking about creating until after the fact?~ Jazz suggested over the bond, optics never leaving the still clearly irritated medic.

~Agreed,~ Prowl responded, watching Ratchet fume and sputter over their lack of reaction.

"And you two don't care in the least," Ratchet snapped. "You would have tried even if you knew and I'd already refused."

"Most likely," Prowl agreed calmly, causing the volatile medic to sputter again.

"There isn't anyone else I'd want. Isn't that worth the risk?" Jazz asked quietly.

"With the Chief Tactical Officer? No," Ratchet hissed. "I could get you brought up on charges of treason for it."

"What?" Prowl was on his pedes, his wings flared to completely block Ratchet's view of Jazz as he got in the medic's faceplates. "You will do no such thing if you want to experience tomorrow."

Ratchet took a step back, surprised and genuinely unsettled by the explosive reaction and the threat. Then his optics narrowed. "Maybe I should put _you_ on medical leave. You're clearly unsettled by the past few orns and no longer processing correctly."

All Jazz could was stare, shaken and completely broadsided by the threat from the medic.

Prowl growled, the warning deep and clear.

Ratchet glared back. "You are acting completely out of character, volatile and threatening. You just lost your mate, a mech you've been with since you were a mechling. You've bonded with a mech not even your brother knew about in a process that by all rights should have guttered your sparks. I don't buy that you don't know the reasons behind the regs. You know _all_ the regs and their reasons. I know full well that's one of your little hobbies, along with changing them. Any one of those would put you on psych leave until you pass an eval."

"But you know I didn't deactivate and I'm not a stranger!" Jazz objected as he felt his mate's temper flare brighter. Ratchet did have one thing right: this was far more volatile than Prowl should be.

"The records say differently," Ratchet focused on Jazz. "You are Velli, legally. You have Velli's history. Jazz has deactivated."

"And Prowl's already thought of that." Jazz counted, moving up behind his mate and wrapping his arms around the Praxian once more, soothing instead of restraining as he sent pleaded over the bond for Prowl to calm. He felt a tremor of relief when Prowl made the effort, but that also brought into clearer focus why Prowl was so angry.

Ratchet had threatened his function.

That was something the Praxian's pride and drive simply could not tolerate. Prowl _had_ to work.

"Then enlighten me," Ratchet demanded of Jazz, wanting the story from the mech who hadn't thought it up.

"Velli is a local performer who Prowl was hooking up while I was gone. It doesn't paint either of us in a good light, but it makes it more believable." Jazz explained quietly, reaching out across the bond. ~He won't love, if we can convince him. Help me.~

"You know I already had a reputation for open affairs and a general distaste for those in the military sharing my berth. It should surprise no one that I would have gone outside the military for a lover, or that I can keep it quiet if I felt like it," Prowl added as he forced his frame to settle. "My temper..."

"I know," Ratchet lifted a hand to silence him. "I know exactly why you reacted both times. You're still going on medical leave for six orns and I better not hear that you left your quarters. As unstable as it must be, you two need the time to merge and settle the bond before you spend any real time apart."

Though it didn't please Prowl, he nodded acceptance.

Jazz couldn't help but be pleased that he was granted the time to spend with his mate, a sentiment reflected across the bond. ~It could be worse love. And if what he says it true, he is also right.~

~Six orns...~ Prowl x-vented heavily. He hated missing so much work when he hadn't prepared for it, but he was elated at spending the time with his mate, his bonded.

"Let's get the post-bonding checkup out of the way so I can work out just how to explain this that won't get us all in trouble," Ratchet grumbled and turned to lead them out of the office. "One berth each."

~We'll make it worth it love. And you can catch up, you always do. And I won't tattle if you work from your quarters.~ Jazz said as he hugged his mate.

~As if I would ever give you less than my full attention when I am off duty,~ Prowl rumbled as his hands ran down Jazz's sides.

Then, ~How much trouble are we in?~ Jazz asked Prowl as the followed Ratchet from the office.

~Less than he wants to make it out to be. The treason is academic, given it only applies if you'd deactivated me trying to bond, and it would have deactivated you as well. Ratchet can't prove we knew how dangerous it was to try, and I still believe he's exaggerating. Zeta's not willing to do anything that would anger me. He's afraid of me.~

"Berths. Separate." Ratchet growled at them when Prowl claimed a kiss.

Jazz snickered and finally released the hold he had on his mate to slide on to the berth Ratchet pointed to. He felt the berth run its basic scans while Ratchet went to get the more specialized equipment.

Jazz couldn't help but feel a moment of pride at the power his mate wielded now, never having forgotten the struggle Prowl had endured to reach this point. He kept the bond open, ignoring the tickle of the scans as something else occurred to him. ~Did you know?~

Prowl paused, hesitant. ~I knew it was a risk. I knew that our sparks were not highly compatible. I also know that the strongest bonded couples are those with nearly incompatible sparks.~

~I would have tried with you anyway.~ Jazz told him, optics on Prowl and ignoring Ratchet as the medic returned. ~I never wanted anyone else. Even deactivating would have been worth it.~

Prowl's spark skipped a pulse at the thought of Jazz deactivating. Even though his spark very firmly agreed with its mate, as much out of fear at witnessing what Prowl could become, there was an uncertainty there too. ~You wouldn't want to have creations first, if the risk was that high?~

~Just to leave them behind if it deactivated us later? No.~ Jazz answered.

~After they were adults,~ Prowl said.

~Then I would want to live to see their creations, their families.~ Jazz said, concern starting to creep into his words. ~Why?~

~I don't want my spark line to end,~ Prowl answered simply.

Understanding and acceptance flared in Jazz. ~Then we would have created first love, if that is what you wished.~

"Whatever you two are talking about, stop it," Ratchet growled. "I need your settled spark readings."

"Yes, Ratchet," Prowl said, his tone unusually cheeky.

"I thought you said settled wasn't possible right now." Jazz added, though he stopped actively reaching out to Prowl after a final brush of affection.

Ratchet simply growled at Jazz and focused on his work. "If you infect him with a sense of humor, I will make your existence a living pit every time you come in here," he promised.

"I wasn't aware that I could infect him with something that he already has." Jazz smirked, visor lighting with amusement as he looked at his mate.

"Hush. That's classified," Prowl teased, his ice blue optics glittering and the bond bright with replying amusement.

Ratchet shot the Praxian a look that promised a real psych eval if this out of character behavior continued.

"You are going to mess up his tests if you keep that up." Jazz warned, unable to resist answering the amusement with a wave of playfulness.

Ratchet gave Prowl a genuinely concerned look that settled the Praxian immediately.

"I do have a sense of humor," Prowl said evenly. "It simply has no place on duty."

"Now you sound like Prowl, mostly," Ratchet huffed. "Get going, both of you. Merge often."

Jazz was off the berth and across to his bonded in an instant, spark singing brightly as he stretched up to snatch a kiss as Prowl laughed at Jazz's enthusiasm.

~I like his advice,~ Prowl purred across the bond even as he moved to all but drag his mate out of the medical bay.

There was no resistance in the silver mech at his side, one hand teasing the edge of a sensor wing as they moved until they reached the wing where the officer's quarters were located. There Jazz gave the wing a tweak and smirked at his mate.

~I like his advice too. But I also like playing with you when you're riled up.~

~Riled enough to take you right here?~ Prowl rumbled as he reached for his mate, not hiding his willingness from the bond.

~You can take me wherever you want, when you catch me.~ Jazz taunted playfully, dancing out of reach around his mate. Prowl growled and lunged after him, his wings spread in display. It was debatable what part of the scene drew the startled looks, and Jazz was sure he heard one officer call Ratchet.

Smiling the entire time and laughing across the bond Jazz raced down the hall. He was genuinely surprised but no less welcoming when his mate was suddenly on him. The force that slammed his back against the hallway wall was just enough to make a clang and draw attention, but not enough to hurt.

Then Prowl's mouth was on his, demanding and aggressive in a way he rarely was. With the bond wide open Jazz could get a feel for his mate's intent, that this was a display, not to mark him as Prowl's, though it would do that, but to mark the moment and strange behavior in the processors of others so their bonding would just be another bit of oddness between them.

~Ratchet is going to have a meltdown before you are done.~ Jazz continued to tease even as he moaned into the kiss and his hands found Prowl's sensor wings once more.

~I've been entirely too easy for him to deal with,~ Prowl countered with a private laugh and public growl as a hand slid between them to grope Jazz's valve cover while his spike slid free.

~All yours love.~ Jazz purred, the cover sliding away at the demanding touch.

~As I will always be yours,~ Prowl rumbled deeply. His fingers slid through the platelets, checking for heat and lubrication as he always had, but this time the move was subtle enough it was easy to miss. His hand out of the way, he rolled his hips forward, driving upwards into his mate.

Their bond sang with the pleasure, the adoration and desire as their frames sought to complete the connection in that pleasure.

~Love you, love when you take me like this. Strong.~ Jazz whimpered as his hands found Prowl's shoulders for balance. His mate's hands were on his hips, steadying him against the driving force that filled his valve with pleasure and made his mate grunt with desire.

~Mutual,~ Prowl's response was more sensation than word, but with it came how much Prowl loved it when Jazz was the strong, dominant one as well. How good it felt to be in charge, and how good it felt to give up all pretense of control to a mate who cared for him.

~Love you always.~ Jazz swore as his lips met Prowl's. A small part of his processor was sure they had a stunned audience, and he couldn't bring himself to begin to care. Much more of him was aware that his mate knew that they not only had an audience, but _did_ care, and knew who every single mecha in range was. That same awareness came with the truth that Prowl was making a show of this for them, especially when Jazz felt his leg being lifted well above Prowl's hip. Every mech in that quarter of the audience would have an excellent view of Prowl's spike sliding out and driving in, a public claim and a warning that something very serious had changed in the tactical division.

~Love you,~ Prowl moaned into the kiss. His next thrust was a little off beat, the one after that far harder as Prowl's wing fingers spread out fully, the plating crackling with energy. With a shudder Prowl shut down his tactical computer and its energy sinks.

~I know.~

A truth that meant so very much to Jazz as he cried out, surrendering to the pleasure roaring through him, frame arching against his mate's as it reacted to the energy racing through it. Against him Prowl roared his overload, channeling all the pleasure and desire through the bond to share his bliss with the only mech he wanted.

Jazz was still trembling, every circuit on fire when he was about to tell what was going on around him again. He felt himself largely horizontal, and moving?

He lifted his helm, finally focusing on his mate and couldn't help but chuckle softly as he relaxed in Prowl's arms, secure as his mate carried him boldly down the hall and to their quarters. ~You are going to have the entire base in an uproar. The only ones who aren't likely to be startled out of their processors by all of this are our family.~

~I think I will enjoy hearing what they come up with,~ Prowl snickered, though his face was serious as he pinged the door open and carried his bonded inside. ~It's not a mansion, but it will have to do for now.~

Jazz reached up, catching his mate's helm in his hands and kissing him with all of the passion in his spark. ~It is with you, and that is all I need.~

~It is less that I want for you,~ Prowl murmured, though his spark was warmed at his mate's statement. He gently lay Jazz on the berth and settled over him as they continued to kiss.

Jazz's hands moved to stroke over his mate, every touch full of affection as he let his spark speak, so much stronger and clearer than words could ever be.

Prowl was enough for him. Prowl had always been. And as long as he could be with Prowl his world was perfect and complete, no matter where it led.

He felt the awe-filled warmth in Prowl's wordless response. How much Jazz meant to the Praxian. How balanced Jazz made him feel. How Jazz was the one thing that kept Prowl from becoming a being that absolutely horrified Prowl. A being who did not value sparks, consumed by cold calculations and hatred. Those orns when Prowl thought his mate had deactivated had made that feared possibility a very real truth.

~You're more than that. And proof in that you do not wish to be that kind of mech.~ Jazz murmured soothingly, a hint of sorrow rising at the pain he had caused the mech who was the center of his very functioning. One hand move to ghost over Prowl's chest plates, over his spark. ~I know.~

~I need you to keep that tactician, that monster, at bay,~ Prowl trembled. He didn't want to bring up such negative things, but it was an intrinsic part of why he valued Jazz so much. ~You remind me why it's worth _feeling_.~

~Then let me remind you again.~ Jazz offered, wanting to ease the fear in his mate, and to remind Prowl that he was what made Jazz's life worth living. That there was more to his functioning than numbers and statistics.

~Yes,~ Prowl's whispered thought was as much a plea as agreement. His chest plates unlocked and slid away, his spark responded to his processors' turmoil to reach out for what would sooth him.

_My love. My life_ Jazz's spark answered, reaching out to meet its mate and share the comfort and bliss that defined their functioning.

SxSxSxSxSxSxSxSx S===================S SxSxSxSxSxSxSxS

Jazz groaned in a mixture of anticipation and relief when Prowl finally guided him to his back and settled over him. It had taken him just over three and a half joors of very serious effort to finally push his mate to the edge of overload with that tactical computer still turned on. He'd understood the reasoning, the higher the charge the better their odds of kindling, but it had been an _effort_ like few things he'd done.

The first touch of Prowl's corona against his made Jazz's frame arch in shock at the potency of the charge that was being channeled into Prowl's spark. The shock of it rushed through Jazz's entire frame, freezing his thought process for a moment. Finally his spark responded, reaching out to sink into its strongly pulsing mate.

Across the bond and the connection he could feel Prowl finally shut down the tactical computer and its systems, but it still wasn't enough warning to adequately prepare himself for the abrupt jump in the energy that sent his spark into a near-instant overload. He was only distantly aware of his mate's scream, or that it was more in pain than pleasure.

The rush of energy knocked him offline, an attempt to protect the rest of his systems, and when he came around it was slow, almost painful process. His mate was just as far gone, sprawled half on top of him, his left wing extended and draped over Jazz's chassis and legs.

Almost tentatively Jazz reached across the bond, finding the strength to stroke the wing gently as he did so. The spark he was forever joined to pulsed back, but it was only spark-level awareness. The processors it powered were still shut down, but Prowl's spark wasn't distressed in the least.

With a sigh Jazz relaxed against the berth, fingers stroking gently over the sensor wing in his reach as he waited for his mate to come around, hoping that this time would result in the kindling of the newspark his mate wanted so badly. He wished that he could know sooner too, like the moment it worked. But it would be ten orns before even Ratchet could be sure, and much longer if Jazz waited until his systems told him.

He was definitely looking forward to getting back to normal interfacing.

Grudgingly the mech next to him began to reboot.

Jazz waited until he felt Prowl start to process again before tipping his helm to kiss his mate. ~That was ... intense, love.~ And not something he was eager to repeat, no matter how much Prowl believed it improved their chances.

~Very intense,~ Prowl agreed, the same sense of not wanting to repeat the experience in the background as he returned the kiss and managed to lift an arm to stroke along Jazz's chest seam. ~I hope it worked.~

~As do I, love.~ Jazz sighed, relaxing under the gentle touch of his mate.

~I now have double the incentive to end the war _quickly_,~ Prowl murmured as he nuzzled into a kiss. Beyond the affection and love for Jazz, the hope for the future, Jazz could feel Prowl's processors turning to planning how to do just that.

Jazz purred softly at the affection and attention, agreement flaring in his spark with protective desire to see his mate and the creation they were attempting to kindle safe and happy.

SxSxSxSxSxSxSxSx S===================S SxSxSxSxSxSxSxS

Prowl was settled in his office chair seven orns after bonding when the door opened to the slender form of the Special Operations commander. As much as he enjoyed spending so much time with his mate, it was _good_ to be back at work and with so much to keep his processors occupied.

"I will be planning all of Jazz's missions and you will not hinder my plans," Prowl said without preamble.

"You are not the Ops planner," Whiplash countered, expecting this confrontation and this particular demand. He was still furious that Jazz had bonded, but there was little he could do about it now.

"No, I am his commander," Prowl leaned back and met Whiplash's black visor. "You will have Jazz. If you abuse that privilege, you will not know what mission will be designed to deactivate you."

That Whiplash hadn't expected. Such a blatant threat was not Prowl's way. The smooth confidence in which it was delivered was, however.

"You'll never manage that," Whiplash narrowed his optics behind the dark visor.

"Oh?" Prowl lifted a datapad and casually tossed it to him. "Tell me which of those missions is designed to deactivate the agent sent on it."

"That would all depend on what intel was leaked," Whiplash scowled at him.

"If no intel is leaked," Prowl amended.

Though he didn't believe such a thing could exist that wasn't obvious, Whiplash read the three plans. All were dangerous missions. All were produced with a level of detail and thoroughness that Whiplash recognized as classic Prowl plans. Most disturbingly, they all looked _good_. Far better than most mission plans he had to work with. It was a stark reminder of the reason Prowl had made his rank so quickly and held it so long.

He read them again, taking careful note of every detail.

"Keep in mind that any mission important enough for you to go on would, naturally, be planned by myself," Prowl said as he watched, smug and showing it in his naturally reserved way. "I can not stop you from using Jazz as leverage against me. I have accepted that. I have decided that I will ensure that any use of Jazz in such a manner will be one you believe in so strongly you are willing to be deactivated, or far worse, for it."

"You are insane," Whiplash couldn't help but retort.

"I am merely stating the rules under which we will exist," Prowl countered calmly. "You are not ignorant enough of my history to believe this would go unchallenged, or any abuse of my mate unpunished. You are dismissed."

Despite his twisting anger and frustration, Whiplash did so.


	18. Blue Serpent

**Into the Light 09: Blue Serpent**  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ =================== ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ever since Prowl had announced to the family that he had bonded with Jazz, Bluestreak had been thinking on it. He wasn't much on spark play, though he'd done it a few times and liked it. It had been absent most of his adult existence because Idarassi never brought it up. Yet now that he'd been made to think about it, Bluestreak couldn't help but know that a bond would fix his need for constant company and bring the need for constant sound back to his normal levels. He'd feel safe because his spark would.

Scales shifted ever so slightly against Bluestreak's side. Idarassi had been keeping close, even in the military base. It had startled those mecha who weren't used to him; he'd managed to startle Zeta Prime into jumping the first time their paths had crossed. It had quickly become normal to see him and Bluestreak together, and no one could blame him for staying close.

Yellow optics flecked with green turned toward Bluestreak, a clawed finger running lightly down the gray mech's arm. "Something on your mind?"

"My brother's bonding," he answered immediately. "He's so happy, and so much calmer now that he always knows he's safe. It's made me think about how much that kind of constant presence would mean to me."

"It took him long enough to actually do it," the half-serpent agreed. "He is a lot more settled now." An audial panel twitched as Idarassi tilted his helm, looking at Bluestreak curiously. "You've never given much thought to ever bonding before."

"I never had reason to," he could only shrug a wing. "But my need to never be alone, to always be talking, so many of my fears. They'd probably go away with a bond, because I never could be alone, even with no one there in the dark."

"True." The bigger mech nodded, continuing to stroke Bluestreak's arm. "Whoever you bond to would be only a single thought away."

"And always in my spark," Bluestreak leaned close and nuzzled him before claiming a kiss. "Silly mech. As if I'm talking about anyone but you."

Idarassi's whole frame locked up briefly in a mixture of shock and surprise. He had always assumed that if Bluestreak ever bonded it would be to another Praxian or other normal mech, sometime far off in the future once things had settled down. He had never seriously considered that the gray mech would want to bond to him.

After a few nanokliks shocked surprise melted into a sort of disbelieving happiness, and the serpent-mech returned the kiss. "You would bond with me?"

"Of course," Bluestreak grinned up at him. "You're the one I always came back to. It might have been a scandal back in Praxus, but what Prowl did is a _far_ bigger one. Besides, here build and lineage don't matter much and I talked to Prowl about it, since he is at the helm of the family now. He'll support us, as long as I'm sure you're the one I want. I'm sure. You know how many lovers I've had. You're the one I always come back to."

"I'd never thought anyone would ever want me that way," the big mech admitted, shifting a bit. "I should be used to being proven wrong by now, though." He wrapped his arms around Bluestreak, holding him close. "If I'm really and truly the one you want... then I am honored to accept."

"I want to start with a merge," Bluestreak leaned into the embrace warmly. "Probably a lot of them. Bonding isn't something to leap into. I have no intention of taking as long as Prowl did though."

"Not something to take lightly." The half-serpent nodded. A soft hum vibrated through his frame, one hand lightly rubbing Bluestreak's back. "Whenever you're ready, I'll be here."

"Why don't you settle, and let me see your spark," Bluestreak purred deeply. "I've merged a few times for pleasure."

Idarassi shifted onto his back, leaning against his own frame. Silver-gray chestplates unlocked, sliding out of the way as the secondary layer began to part. Bluish-purple light flared as his spark was revealed.

"Beautiful," Bluestreak whispered, simply looking for a moment. With a glance at Idarassi's face, he carefully reached forward to ghost his fingers across the casing.

There was a faint shudder that ran through the big mech's frame as his chest armor finished parting, but otherwise he held still, watching. Another shiver rattled his scales softly as Bluestreak's fingers brushed his spark casing, but this shiver was one of pleasure rather than fear.

That made Bluestreak smile and relax on top of his lover to gently caress the facets of the crystal once more, exploring it as fully as he'd explored Idarassi's frame.

The instinctive fear melted away, threads of blue-purple light following the younger mech's fingers across the crystal. Idarassi slowly relaxed into a puddle of scales, purring at the touches. One hand lifted, lightly tracing the seams of Bluestreak's chest armor. They parted without hesitation as Bluestreak shifted to sit up more. The trust in Bluestreak's field spoke of how ready he was to give this to his lover.

"Please, touch," Bluestreak said, anticipating the pleasure.

Yellow optics widened slightly as the serpent-mech caught sight of his lover's swirling warm blue spark. His hand hesitated for a long moment, then carefully brushed his clawtips against the crystal. "Oh wow," was the soft, whispered comment.

Bluestreak simply moaned and arched, his wings flaring out and his spark pressing against the crystal eagerly.

"It's beautiful," Idarassi whispered. "_You're_ beautiful." The tip of his index claw traced the seams of the spark's crystal prison before he cupped his hand around it, palm smoothing over the glittering facets. His own spark, much less nervous than the processors it powered, tried to reach out, threads of energy crawling over the inside of its casing walls.

A shuddering moan of intense pleasure escaped Bluestreak as he ordered his chamber to open. "Please, let me touch yours."

Idarassi had to hunt through his own processors for a long moment to find the codes that would open his chamber. As soon as it began to part, his spark was extending feelers out into open air, wire-thin threads reaching out toward the lighter blue spark so near. Carefully the half-serpent withdrew his hand from Bluestreak's chest, fingers brushing once more against the crystal casing before he shifted his hand to the younger mech's hip.

With a tender smile and encouragement in his field Bluestreak shifted forward so he could easily lower himself slowly, giving their sparks time to find each other and with the leaders, then the coronas.

The shock of connection drew a gasp from the serpent-mech, yellow optics going wide and flaring brightly. Scales flared and slowly resettled all along his frame as blue-purple leaders met blue, twining into shimmering threads, more and more reaching out to slowly draw their sparks together.

"You feel amazing," Bluestreak whispered, his optics on but not seeing. "So amazing."

The bigger mech tried to reply, but all that came out was a garbled mass of sounds and hisses before he gave up, tailtip twitching slightly. His spark corona melded into Bluestreak's, the connection deepening. Idarassi's spark was warm and welcoming, though something seemed to flicker through its depths, something that felt slightly different, not like the serpent-mech.

"Mmm, feels like you're bonded," Bluestreak murmured as he sank a little deeper.

"Spark has never been touched before," Idarassi managed to gasp out. "'S just leftovers. Or something. Not mine." He ran both hands down Bluestreak's back as their sparks merged into a purple-tinted blue orb. The intensity of the connection wrung a soundless gasp from the serpent-mech, his optics flaring almost white, staring blindly toward the ceiling. On top of him Bluestreak's wings flared and the fingers spread, energy crackling over them. His moan deep and rich as he willingly surrendered to the intensity of a spark overload generated by his lover.

Their sparks gradually retreated, then their armor closed as they panted and gasped for cooling air.

Idarassi was almost completely limp, a puddle of plating and scales. His cooling fans were hard at work, heat shimmering over his frame, glossa poking out but barely twitching. "Oh... wow..." was all he managed to get out.

Bluestreak only managed a hum of agreement at first.

"Just wait until you're used to it enough not to rush it," the Praxian purred.

"If it gets better than _that_, then I look forward to it," the half-serpent purred in response. He was silent for a moment, managing to shift a hand enough to stroke Bluestreak's side.

"Good interfacing always gets better," he purred with a lazy grin. "Just ask my brother about it ... or Ja ... Velli."

The serpent-mech chuckled at that. "I've heard enough from them over the vorns to figure that out, and I've experienced it first-hand myself." His forked glossa darted out to flutter ticklishly against the gray mech's cheek.

Bluestreak purred in pride and giggled at the tickling. "And we're going to experience it again. I'm looking forward to learning with you," he nuzzled his lover.

"As am I." Idarassi returned the nuzzle. His tail shifted, the tip stroking up Bluestreak's leg to his back, tip teasing at the bases of gray sensor wings while light claws ran down the Praxian's sides. His lover squirmed and giggled at the tickling before kissing him soundly.


	19. Good News

**Into the Light 10: Good News**  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ =================== ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jazz made his way down the hall, humming quietly to himself and thankful that his mate had already started planting the seeds for Velli's background. The fact that his new identity had also been a performer meant that he did not have to try and break all of his habits at once.

When Ratchet had released them the first order of business on his bonded's agenda had been an officers meeting. With no other direction as of yet Jazz decided he would go in search of Bluestreak and Ida. The first stop was their quarters, and it was no surprise when Bluestreak answered the door with a bright smile and let Jazz in.

"So Prowl finally let you go?" the younger Praxian chatted excitedly at seeing his brother's mate. "I bet Ratchet was furious that you'd bonded without talking to him first."

"Work finally got in the way. And Ratchet's grounding was lifted as well. And no, he was not pleased with us in the slightest." Jazz said with a smile, at ease in the infectious happiness of Bluestreak's field.

"I'm _so_ not surprised," Bluestreak laughed as they settled in the entertainment center of their simple one-room quarters. Bluestreak was tucked in against Idarassi's coils while Jazz got a chair. "Prowl's always loved his work. He's like Sire that way. And Carrier too, though you had to know her function to realize it was just as much _work_ as anything Sire and Prowl did."

"I remember." Jazz agreed with a fond smile that quirked into a smirk. "And I did get him all to myself for six orns. That alone was worth Ratchet's wrath."

"I bet," Bluestreak giggled, snuggling against his lover. "Prowl loves you more than anything, but he's still too pragmatic to indulge for long."

"I know." The smile softened some, full of the deep love and affection Jazz had for his mate. "You both seem to be doing well."

"We are," Bluestreak grinned, tipping his helm back for a kiss. "I miss being out in the city, but it's good here, close to family."

The half-serpent against which Bluestreak was leaning returned the kiss, humming softly. His forked glossa poked out, tasting the air, taking in all the scents the air carried.

Yellow optics flickered in a blink as Idarassi processed the scents, detecting something different. His glossa shot out again, flicking so rapidly it was almost a blur as he glanced around, then looked back at Jazz.

"Something wrong, Ida?" the visored mech asked uneasily.

Idarassi shifted position, leaning over until the serpent-mech was a mere handspan away from the smaller mech. His glossa flicked out, brushing against Jazz's plating, then whipped back in, pressing against the sensor cluster in the roof of his oral cavity. Yellow optics flickered again, then the big mech repeated the gesture, forked glossa-tips swiping lightly over black and silver armor.

"There's something... different... about your scent," the half-serpent finally responded, giving the smaller mech a puzzled look.

"I was just given a complete rebuild from the protoform out," Jazz suggested even as a small burst of hope flickered across his spark to draw Prowl's quiet attention.

"Your scent remained the same even after your rebuild, and it's still the same," Idarassi informed him. "There's just... something new in it. Not something I've ever smelled before." His glossa shot out once more, the tips pressing briefly against Jazz's cheek before withdrawing.

"Maybe..." Jazz murmured.

~Have Rewire check,~ Prowl suggested softly, trying to keep his hope in check. ~It's early to tell, but maybe...~

"Maybe what?" Bluestreak perked up.

"We've been trying to kindle," Jazz smiled at his mate's brother and his mate. "It's a bit early to tell, but maybe Ida can smell things that a medical scan can't be sure of."

"Kindle?" Bluestreak's wings flared in surprise, then a grin of delight. "We always figured Prowl would be the carrier, but it makes sense you would be with his job right now. He can't really take that much time off."

The big mech blinked several times as he settled back. "That might be enough to cause the change in your scent... I have absolutely no experience with carrying mecha, so I really can't say for sure. I just know you smell different."

"We'll know for sure in a few orns if you're right," Jazz grinned, laughing as his mate prodded him to get checked. "But I'm off to medical before Prowl glitches in front of everyone. He wants to be a creator _bad_."

Idarassi chuckled. "Primus forbid he glitch in public. We'll see you later, then?" He settled back against Bluestreak, resting his chin on the gray Praxian's shoulder.

"I'll see if Prowl will stop by with me after he gets off shift." Jazz promised with a nod as he let himself out and headed off to the medical wing, sending a message ahead to see if Rewire was available as he walked. Rewire pinged back that he was ready.

~I'm going love, though you know they won't be able to find anything for at least a couple more orns.~

~They can't be sure you _aren't_ with a newspark until ten orns,~ Prowl countered, entirely too excited for anyone's good. ~If it worked they can sometimes tell sooner.~

Gentle amusement washed back over the bond as Jazz entered the medical wing and looked around for the medic he was to be seeing. He kept his concern to himself. If this turned out to be a false alert, if he wasn't carrying, Prowl would be crushed.

"Hello, Velli," Rewire greeted him. "Commander Prowl commed that you would be coming," he motioned Jazz towards one of the private exam rooms. "How long ago did you begin trying?"

"Three orns." The silver mech answered, sliding gracefully onto the examination berth in the room as the door closed behind them.

"This is far too soon to be sure," Rewire warned him, his voice gentle as he set up the scanners. "Have you had any symptoms to indicate you are carrying?"

"I know. But it will make Prowl feel better." Jazz said as he submitted to the scan. "None that I have noticed."

"He's eager, then," the medic said warmly as he watched the readouts. "Have you talked about having creations before you bonded?"

"No. I never imagined that I would be bonded to him, since he had an established mate." Jazz lied easily. He could read people well enough to recognize the displeasure that Rewire carefully hid.

"Then this is all quite sudden," the medic hummed. "Have you raised a sparkling before?"

"Nope." The silver mech answered, sill calm and cheerful about the whole ordeal. "I was free and single until a few orns ago."

"I can not pick up a newspark, though you have the coding active for the early stages. That means your systems are ready to support one should it be there," Rewire told him. "Why did you agree to bond so suddenly?"

Jazz shrugged from where he was reclined on the berth. "I like him. It seems like a safe idea, with the war going on. And Prowl can be very persuasive when he wants to be."

"I'm sure he can be," Rewire murmured as he added a few more comments to Velli's file. "If you are carrying and it's too early to tell, your systems are in good shape to support it. I would like to see you every two orns until we confirm you are carrying or confirm that you are not twelve orns after your final attempt. Your spark and systems are strong and ready to support a newspark if it happens. Do you have any concerns right now?"

"Not if you don't find anything to be worried about." Jazz answered with the same easy manner he'd had the whole time, marking the checkups on his personal planner.

"No," Rewire shook his helm and unhooked Jazz. "You are healthy, your spark is strong, your bond is stable and I did not get any worrisome readings. If a sparkling is truly what you want, you have an excellent chance at kindling, and may already have. We will know more as time passes and we keep track of it."

"Prowl will be pleased to hear that." Jazz answered, his field making it clear that he found the idea acceptable as well. "I will see you in couple orns then."

"Yes, I will see you then," Rewire nodded and showed Jazz out before returning to his rounds.

Wordlessly Prowl nudged the bond, asking for an update.

~Nothing for sure yet love.~ Jazz reported as he walked back towards their quarters. He felt the flicker of disappointment from his mate, but nothing serious. ~He did say my spark was healthy and that my systems were primed to take care of one, a good sign. He also seemed disturbed by the fact that we are bonded and attempting to kindle as almost strangers. He wants me back in two orns to scan again.~

~Ratchet will make sure little comes of Rewire's concerns, though you may have to chat with someone about me for a while as a cover. I'll make sure Ratchet reads them if he doesn't handle your case.~ Prowl responded. ~If you have to talk, it might as well be with someone you can be honest with. Has Whiplash tracked you down yet?~

Jazz couldn't hide the small ripple that went through him at the mention of the special ops mech. ~No.~

~He's around somewhere,~ Prowl warned him softly. ~He sent his second to the meeting.~

~Thanks for the warning love.~ Jazz said as he opened the door to the quarters he shared with Prowl.

Sitting in the entry room was the slender matte black killer of SpecOps.

"Finally done with the delay tactics?" Whiplash asked calmly.

"Who said I was delaying? Far be it from me to argue with Ratchet." Jazz shrugged, pulling on the social shield that had served him so well in the past.

The matte black mech simply gave him that creepy, knowing smile and rolled smoothly to his pedes and motioned Jazz to follow him out. "Try not to lean too much on your mate's processors in training. You don't need to."

Jazz followed along, hiding his unease. He had never like Whiplash, but now that he knew just how underhanded the spec ops commander could be he was constantly on guard. They were both silent as Whiplash led his latest agent into a section of the base that didn't have much visible security, but Jazz had no doubt that it had more than enough to keep anyone out.

The matte black mech motioned Jazz into a small room with only an access terminal on the wall.

"I'll be back in three breems. Tell me what you find out," Whiplash instructed, then slipped away while Jazz was still taking in the room, locking the door behind him.

_Find out?_

Jazz looked around the room cautiously, taking it all in with careful optics and wondering if he should contact his mate or not.

It was as it had been at first glance. A small room with one locked door, one air vent much too small for him to get through, and one computer terminal. After scanning the room again Jazz approached the terminal, tapping the power switch. It made no sense for Whiplash to try and kill him just yet.

It booted up smoothly, presenting him with a pointed purple logo he couldn't place with but had a sense he should know, and a login screen.

For a long time Jazz contemplated the screen, then he reached out, typing in his last access code and his former designation.

There was a lingering pause before the terminal responded.

_Designation: Jazz_  
_Alliance: Autobot Agent_  
_Status: Deactivated_

Jazz hummed thoughtfully, then tried with his new designation but the same passcode.

The terminal beeped unhappily at him and brought up the blank login again.

Jazz hummed softly to himself and set about cracking the codes and finding out as much information as much as could.

~Sidewinder. Sh6rk7%3i76ghk85i9.~ Prowl offered, quiet even across the bond. Jazz could _feel_ how badly his mate wanted to give more, tell him what would be best, and was holding himself back.

~Thank you love.~ Jazz murmured, making several more attempts before he finally entered the information that Prowl had given, thankful for the bond. Once he was in Jazz scanned everything that was available to him and split in two three categories. What he _needed_ to know, what he could know, and what he 'shouldn't' know but would be very useful.

He found everything that was available on the layout of the base that anyone could know, who was there, and its resources both public and classified. Then he started digging deeper into the stuff that he shouldn't know.

He was still at it when Whiplash unlocked the door and stepped inside. The Ops commander's optics swept the room and settled on Jazz, waiting to be acknowledged.

Jazz finished scanning over the last bit of information he was working on, a collection of statistics and projections that he was wondering if his bondmate had seen, before he blanked the screen and turned to face Whiplash.

"Yes?"

"I said I'd be back for what you learned," Whiplash shrugged. "I'm back."

The bond trembled, a sense of guilty regret trickling in from Prowl right under the firm belief that it was for Jazz's own good.

"I've learned that you are a fragger." Jazz replied evenly. "I also know the name, rank and designation of every mecha stationed here, the _entire_ layout of the base, and all the missions planned for the next metacycle. Among other things."

"Only a fragger?" Whiplash chuckled. "I'm disappointed you don't think less of me. What about the room?"

"It's a room." Jazz said with a shrug. "I am sure that someone had fun watching me the entire time I was piddling around with your computer."

"Of course. It's a test. I'd be foolish not to watch how you think," Whiplash agreed. "Your undercover instincts aren't bad, but I already knew that or you wouldn't be here. Your survival instincts as an op are miserable, however. We really need to work on your priorities."

"Listening." Jazz said, seriously paying attention even if it appeared as though he didn't care on the surface.

A small smile crossed Whiplash's features. "You are good at that, and too smart for your own good half the time. No space is just a space," he stepped inside and motioned around as the door closed. "Every space is a trap. Some open, some cages, but they're always a trap waiting to happen. Mecha fall into three categories. Those who feel safe in cages, those who feel safe in the open and those who feel safe in crowds. Do you know what you are?"

"Why don't you tell me?" Jazz asked.

A low chuckle met the demand. "You're a crowd mecha. But what do you do in a cage?"

"I get out." Jazz answered.

"Yet you did not recognize this as a cage enough to even find the way out," Whiplash prodded, seeing how long it would take Jazz to make the connection.

"You think I would not have gotten out of here?" Jazz asked, helm tilting to the side just a bit.

"I think you do not know how long it would take you to do so," Whiplash corrected. "I think you do not _know_ that I would be the next mecha you saw. I think you do not _know_ that the next mecha you saw, or didn't see, wouldn't take you to be an intruder hacking the system. The first thing you _always_ want to know is at least three ways to get out of anything and anywhere you are in. All that intel you got wouldn't have done any good if you didn't make it back to report it. It's better that the mission fails and you get back alive than it fails because you were captured."

Jazz was silent for a long moment as he considered that, then he nodded in agreement. It was true, and it was something that he was going to have to learn in this new world.

~You'll learn,~ Prowl's warmth brushed against his spark. ~You'll learn quickly and well. You always do.~

"So with all that in mind, what are your thoughts on ways out of this room?" Whiplash asked.

"Well, the most obvious one is the door that we came in." Jazz started.

Whiplash nodded.

"The air duct isn't an option, at least not for a mech of my size." Jazz continued. "I could wait and clobber the next mecha to walk through it. If I could find a way to safely carry something on me that would blow it wide open I'd have another alternative."

"All true," Whiplash nodded. "How long would it take you to hack the door?"

Jazz hesitated. "I don't know." He admitted.

Whiplash nodded with a trace of approval and motioned to the door. "Find out. This is as simple as locks come."

With a nod Jazz and went to the door, working on the door and was surprised when he had it hacked in a matter of a few dozen nanokliks.

"Taken lessons from your mate's brother?" Whiplash asked when the door slid open.

"Some. It was a game to see who could crack the other's door codes first." Jazz replied.

"It's a good start," Whiplash nodded and stepped up to the panel, closing and locking the door once more. "Try this one," he gave Jazz a meaningful but hard to interpret look before stepping back.

Jazz set to work, growling softly as he struggled to crack the code. Nanokliks turned into kliks, which turned into a breem. All the while Whiplash merely watched in silence, observing not just technique but focus and tenacity.

"This is beyond me," Jazz finally admitted after nearly a breem and a half.

Whiplash nodded his acceptance. "If I tell you what door that security is for, do you believe it will help you?"

"It might." Jazz said, glancing at the other mech.

"My quarters," Whiplash supplied.

Jazz contemplated that for a moment and tried again, approaching it from several different angles before he finally admitted defeat again.

Another nod of acceptance and Whiplash unlocked the door and reset it before motioning Jazz to follow him.

SxSxSxSxSxSxSxSx S===================S SxSxSxSxSxSxSxS

Jazz groaned when the door to Prowl's quarters closed, sealing the outside world _outside_. Despite that his orn had been composed of little more than reports, listening, talking and hacking, it had been a _long_ orn. He knew more about how unethical his new coworkers were than he ever wanted to think about, and now he was one of them.

~I'm sorry,~ Prowl's gentle affection caressed Jazz's spark as the Praxian came out of his office. "Come. Let us clean up, have our energon and relax."

Jazz melted into his mate's touch for a moment, nuzzling Prowl gently and needing the kiss that was finally offered as he found his voice. "Please...and you can tell me of your orn."

A low, soft chuckle greeted that as Prowl guided his mate to the extensive private washrack that was one of the few luxuries he indulged in, even as one of the highest ranking mecha in the army. "My orn was very dull and very full of calculations, just as I like it. I don't think anyone wanted to disturb me after the last decaorn."

"So your meeting went well." Jazz inquired, pulling away enough to start gathering the supplies they would need to wash up for the evening.

"As well as expected," Prowl hummed as he embraced his love from behind. "I missed you."

"And I missed you, very much." Jazz murmured, the distress in his field rising to the top despite his best efforts to keep buried.

"I know," Prowl hugged him tightly and kissed the side of one of the elegant sensor horns that had replaced the stubby ones Jazz had sported. "It hurt not to help you more. I knew what he wanted, what he would look for, but he can teach you better than my giving you the answers."

Jazz turned his helm, catching Prowl's lips for a real kiss before he reached for the scrub brush and solvent to start on his mate, processor still trying to work through the events of the orn. He could feel his mate's quiet support through the bond, the willingness to be a sounding board when Jazz was ready, but without any need for it to happen now.

Gentle kisses matched hands that knew each other well as the pair cleaned each other, both enjoying the warmth of simply having their mate close. When they were scrubbed, rinsed and hot air dried Jazz reached for large, soft towels they kept specifically for his mate's wings, polishing the surfaces gently.

Prowl moaned under the gentle touch, his wings, then frame trembling faintly in pleasure that was more caring than sensual. It felt _good_ in a way interfacing didn't, and he gladly shared that pleasure with his mate.

After the events of the orn it felt good to Jazz to simply be able to do something good and uncomplicated, and that filtered back across the bond in answer. He needed this.

"Was it all bad?" Prowl ask softly.

Jazz leaned against his mate's back, trembling faintly. "I don't know if I can do it. It's...everything I was trying to escape when I came to you."

"I don't have the leverage to make Whiplash let you go," Prowl murmured with regret. "But I can help you do the job without crossing the lines you don't want to. I'm _good_ at manipulating plans. Just because an Op can cross all those lines doesn't mean you'll have to."

"Please. Thank you." Jazz responded, holding Prowl tight for comfort. His mate wrapped his arms around him and hummed soothingly.

"What is important to you to avoid?" Prowl asked with a gentle nuzzle.

"I don't want to kill." His mate shuddered in his arms. Death and destruction he had seen, but he had never taken a life himself.

Prowl winced. "I will do my best, but we are in a planetary war. Sometimes killing is the only answer."

Jazz nodded against his mate, relaxing a little with Prowl's promise of help.

"What else?" Prowl nudged the bond gently, promising all the support he could give, not only in planning, but in holding Jazz afterwards.

"The sneaking, the information gathering...I can do that. I have done that." Jazz said, leaning into the support of his mate. "Setting other mecha up...that's not as hard either, especially if I can feel like they deserve it."

Prowl nodded and held him. "Hot oil?" he almost trilled, wanting to soak for himself as much as for his mate.

"Yes." Eagerness flared in Jazz's field at the proposal of warm, familiar comfort and a place that was safe.

With a smile Prowl guided him to the pool. It was smaller than the one in Praxus, much smaller than the ones in Jazz's suites had been, but it was big enough for two mecha their size to relax in. Yet Prowl caught Jazz's mouth in a warm kiss before they sank into the oil and guided his mate to sit across his lap without breaking the kiss.

~I love you,~ Prowl murmured across the bond, more aware than ever how important it was for Jazz to _hear_ it.

His mate's frame pressed against his as Jazz pressed into the kiss, deep and needy. ~I know.~ He acknowledged the love that he had needed for so long. ~Love you too, so very much.~

Prowl hummed, leaving the bond open and swirling with his feelings for his mate while his hands slid along Jazz's sides, slipping between armor plating that was now heavy for war rather than the light display protection that Jazz had worn for so long. Touches that still left his mate moaning in pleasure and pressing into his hands, seeking the connection and the closeness. After a moment Jazz's hands slipped around Prowl's frame, searching for his mate's sensor wings to share the pleasure he was being given. It was a move Prowl willingly made easier.

Searching hands, guided by long familiarity, desire and the bond, soon had both mecha trembling and gasping as they kissed, the charge rising quickly in their mutual need for pleasure, connection and closeness.

Prowl's wings flared and wiggled, the fingers separating in an offer of trust he gave so very few.

Jazz purred in delight, stretching up to traces the edges of the fingers, desire flaring across the bond at the display as he kissed Prowl again. ~Take me?~ he pleaded. ~Want to be reminded who I belong to.~

~You are _mine_,~ Prowl rumbled hotly into a kiss as his spike slid free. ~Just as I am yours.~

~Love you.~ Jazz repeated as his valve cover retracted and he surrendered all control to his mate. He relished the heat he created in his mate, the care Prowl treated him with even in the height of passion, the feel of the spike that was like no other when it slid inside him, smooth and filling.

~Always,~ Prowl moaned, relishing the feel of being inside his mate once more. It didn't matter how often they did this, it was always exquisite. They balanced each other in so many ways. It was that balance that Prowl treasured so. This was merely an expression of their unity.

Jazz's valve tightened and rippled around his spike as another shudder ran through the silver mech. ~All yours.~ He promised himself again the to the mech that very few others even knew existed underneath the cold and calculating exterior.

~Always, for you,~ Prowl promised in return, willingly allowing Jazz to know the calm spark and fiercely possessive pride that drove him. His hips rocked upwards as he guided Jazz's hips down, then separate, only to bring them together once more.

"Prowl." Jazz moaned his mate's designation as their lips met once more, his hand playing on Prowl's wings as he savored the smooth slide of his mate's spike and the physical connection it forged between them. They rhythm of his mate's thrusts and the feeling of being controlled by someone who loved him and would keep him safe spoke to the need burning in his spark.

With their hips together and frames tingling with a pleasurable charge, Prowl stilled and unlocked his chest armor. ~Spark.~

The suggestion was met with instant agreement and a strong flare of desire, the multiple layers of protection that now shielded Jazz's spark folding back to expose the one part of him that had not, could not, be altered or replaced.

~Yes,~ Prowl shivered in desire and anticipation, his spark chamber already spiraling open to welcome its other half with tendrils of ice blue light. Desire and familiarity had the sparks meeting and melting into one another quickly and smoothly, Jazz's reaching out in return before his spark chamber was completely open.

Their moans were deep, muted by the kiss, but even more resonant than from the physical pleasure they also relished. Tendrils entwined, pulling the bonded sparks closer as emotions and pleasure washed between them.

The emotions from Jazz's spark revealed how badly he had needed this, needed to reconnect to the mech who owned his spark and everything about him. His mate's spark welcomed him, welcomed his need, and reveled in it to sooth its own need to reconnect after an orn of planning how to kill as many mecha as possible as quickly as possible. Though he was suited to the task in a way few could be, it still tore at him to know what he was ordering every orn.

Jazz's spark quivered, wrapping around its mate with determination. They would win. He had faith. In Prowl, if in nothing else. And they would move on and rebuild.

~Yes,~ Prowl whispered between them, flickers of a plan too horrible to contemplate and the kind of vengeful pleasure Prowl took in it coming to the surface before being pushed down. ~Yes, we will win, and we will move on, no matter the price.~

~Together.~ Jazz's spark pleaded, naming the one thing that mattered most to him.

~The only thing I want. _Us_.~ Prowl promised with all his spark. ~We can rebuild the rest.~

Jazz's spark accepted that, trusting on a level that his processor couldn't keep up with as it surrendered to its mate.

SxSxSxSxSxSxSxSx S===================S SxSxSxSxSxSxSxS

Jazz made his way back into the medical wing, resigning himself to yet another check-up. All of the previous ones had simply been repeats of the first. He was healthy and his systems were primed to care for a newspark should one appear, but nothing yet. Prowl was starting to get antsy over the whole ordeal, even though Jazz gently reminded him that they had been trying to spark for less than a decaorn, and many couples had to attempt it for metacycles before they saw results.

Yes, Jazz had been doing some research on his own, along with the information that Ratchet had handed him the next time that he had gone in. He couldn't find himself surprised that the CMO took over, both because he already knew Velli's secret, and because of Prowl's rank.

His thoughts shifted for a moment as he glanced around, on guard. His training had continued as well, and the deeper he got the less he liked it. He hoped for good news today, just to bring his lessons to a halt for a little while. The first hand to hand lesson had Prowl so wound up his SIC had pinged Velli to ask if everything was all right.

"Right on time, unlike every other mecha in this place," Ratchet huffed a greeting when Jazz walked in, then motioned the much smaller silver and black mech into a private exam room.

"I try." Jazz answered easily, following the now familiar route to the exam room and hopped up on the berth without being prompted.

"Have you felt anything unusual, higher system demands or unusual prompts?" Ratchet asked as he hooked Jazz up to the medberth for the detailed scans this level of detection required. "Are you still merging to overload regularly, and only with Prowl?"

"No. No. No. Yes. Yes." Jazz answered as Ratchet went through the normal line of questioning as well. He relaxed as the scans ran, but twitched when Ratchet paused at a reading, then ordered that scan to run again.

"That tickles, you know." Jazz griped, trying to lift his helm enough to see the readouts for himself.

"Tickles?" Ratchet raised an optic ridge at him, then turned fully with a hand scanner. "Expose your spark."

There was a moment of hesitation before Jazz lay back down and complied, armor folding away and spark chamber spiraling open, though not without a small shudder of protest.

"Have you always been this defensive around a medic?" he asked almost gently as he scanned the exposed ball of energy.

"No." Jazz admitted, medics having been the few individuals in the past that he felt he could trust for the most part.

The CMO sighed but nodded his understanding. "You can close up, and ask your mate to get his aft down here."

~Love, Ratchet wants you down here.~ Jazz said, armor sliding back into place much more quickly than it had moved away as he sat up and faced the medic. "Well doc?"

~Why?~ Prowl asked, even as he stood from his office chair to comply.

"Do either of you have an issue with raising twins?" Ratchet asked carefully.

~He hasn't said-~ Jazz's response broke off abruptly as he focused on Ratchet. "Twins?"

"At least two, there may be a third but it's too early to tell. It will be another five orns before I can tell for sure," Ratchet nodded.

~Love?~ Prowl nudged his mate even as he transformed and raced to medical.

~He just said...twins. For sure, love. Maybe more.~ Jazz managed as he tried to process that.

Prowl stalled in the hall as his engine sputtered, drawing more than a little attention from those nearby. ~Twins?~ he repeated, shock overlaying an intense joyful pride. ~He's _sure_ you're carrying twins?~

~Yes love. He is sure.~ Jazz responded, relaxing a little at the tone of his mate's response. ~And he does want you here.~

~I'm coming,~ Prowl got rolling again.

"So, do either of you have issues with twins?" Ratchet repeated.

"I don't." Jazz answered, gaze rising to meet Ratchet's. "And I don't think Prowl does either. He felt very happy to hear. Why?"

Ratchet relaxed slightly and moved to open the door for Prowl to stride in, his wings high and angled for a prideful display as he walked to his mate and kissed him, one hand lightly stroking over Jazz's chest seam.

"I ask because twins are considered a bad thing by more mecha than I care to think about," Ratchet told him.

"We're at war and with a critically low population," Prowl kissed his mate again. "It's an excellent sign, especially for our first creations. Even better for it to be a full triad."

The silver mech melted into his mate's touch and approval, field talking on a touch of matching pride after being exposed to just how proud Prowl was. ~Glad you approve love. Though three would be a handful, even with help.~

~We'd manage. Between the five of us we'll manage anything Primus grants us,~ Prowl quivered in a mixture of pride, excitement and a euphoric thrill. ~You'll be a good creator.~

"I can't say I'm surprised you'd be pragmatic," Ratchet shook his helm, even as the affection made him smile. It was good to attend a joyful event for once.

"Much of Praxus was, when we didn't follow Seeker ways," Prowl said before focusing on his mate. "But _you_ are done with physical training and anything else that might risk our creations. There are too few Praxians to risk losing any more."

Jazz could feel what Prowl refused to say, that even half-breeds were too valuable to risk. You didn't hear about Praxian kin the way you did Seeker kin, but Jazz had lived in Praxus long enough to know the social stigma existed. He also knew that Prowl and his family didn't care. Had never cared.

"Well, that one I agree with," Ratchet gave a menacing grin. "I'm going to enjoy tramping Whiplash's plans."

"Good," Prowl purred, deep and vindictive.

The support warmed Jazz's spark as he wrapped his arms around his mate, holding him close and focusing on Ratchet once more. "So what all does this mean for me, then?"

"Based on what I know of Whiplash, and what I can enforce, you'll be on the training equivalent of light desk duty. No more than nine joors an orn on duty, with a minimum of a two joor break in the middle. He'll drill you with files to learn, skills that require thinking but little activity, and nothing that would strain your spark or systems," Ratchet laid out the basics. "As much as he'll hate it and push the limits, he knows not to cross a line I've marked in acid. And I'm quite sure your mate has had a _conversation_ with him over risking you," he smirked at Prowl.

"Indeed," Prowl chuckled.

That information did not surprise Jazz in the least, well aware of how possessive and protective his mate could be, and just how threatening and willing to follow through on his threats Prowl was when something of his was being threatened. As much as Jazz disliked Whiplash, he knew the mech was neither foolish nor stupid.

Jazz nodded in understanding. "And I am going to assume that you are going to want to see me on a regular basis?"

"Every orn for the next six, or until I'm sure all the newsparks are stable," Ratchet nodded, his field warming at the thought of sparklings coming into such a strong and loving extended family. "They'll space out more from there, though never to less than once a decaorn. It will be good for you to continue to interface and merge often. The energy of a merge will strengthen the newsparks and their bond with their sire. Do you still have the file I gave you?"

"Yep." Jazz nodded again, helm rubbing against his mate as he smiled. ~I think we can make good on that recommendation without too much trouble, don't you?~

~Definitely,~ Prowl's sensors wings flared and quivered in anticipation.

"Then you'll want to begin adding the supplements on the schedule, but double them," Ratchet told him firmly. "Especially with twins, you'll need to build up a lot of reserves for the protoform construction chamber to draw on or they'll draw on reserves you shouldn't lose." He paused and considered the pair. "Just how strong are fliers in your lineage?"

"I'm Praxian," Prowl shrugged. "I carry all the Seeker coding and the sparkline, even if most of the code is inactive. There have been few fliers in my sparkline in the last twelve generations, however."

"I don't know. And I don't even know if I can find out, anymore. I was disowned when I ran away to be with Prowl." Jazz informed Ratchet. "Neither of my creators were, at least."

The CMO nodded. "Then I'll be keeping a closer optic on you when the protoforms are being constructed. If one or both turn out to be flight-frames, you'll need very different supplements, and a lot of them. Your frame is fully grounder. There aren't enough of the minerals for a flight frame in you to produce one healthy flier, much less two. For now, we'll assume they'll be grounders, since all indications are that they will be for now."

Jazz nodded again from where he was leaning against Prowl. ~Pleased, love?~

~Very pleased,~ Prowl focused on sharing just how elated he was.

"Then you can go. I'll inform Whiplash of the good news," Ratchet grinned mischievously.

~Why do I have the feeling that he is going to enjoy this entirely too much?~ Jazz asked Prowl as his mate helped him from the medical berth.

~Because he is,~ Prowl laughed silently as they walked out. ~Almost as much as I enjoyed seeing his expression when I laid out our private rules of conduct a few orns ago. Unfortunately, I do have to return to my work. I'd like to make the family announcement tonight, if you can keep it quiet until then?~

~Yes love. Just so we can see the looks on everyone's faces together.~ Jazz said with a small smile.

~Good,~ Prowl stole a kiss as they entered the hall. ~I look forward to it.~

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Prowl was still twitching and slightly shocky when he and Jazz returned to their quarters after the medic on duty confirmed that Prowl was also carrying a single newspark, a sibling to the twins and likely kindled the same orn.

Jazz guided him to the berth, fetching a cube of energon and handing to his mate before settling beside Prowl, trying to gauge his mate's reaction to the news. He knew the first flare was joyful, elated, actually, before the shock kicked in and then the tactical processor went to work dismantling Prowl's excitement.

"Talk to me love." He begged gently as his hand stroked over Prowl's chest seam. "What are you thinking?"

The Praxian gave a sigh of contentment at the touch and leaned against his mate. His field was stressed despite the affection woven into it. "This is just going to make things far more difficult. I was counting on remaining active duty to protect you."

"What sort of danger could I be in? And why can't you?" Jazz asked, prodding gently. He knew his mate's work could be taxing, but often that was because Prowl pushed himself far harder than any other mecha. And rarely did his mate's work call him from the safety of the base.

"Whiplash, training accidents, but mostly the Decepticons," Prowl murmured. "Every decaorn I am not on full duty at full capacity will extend the war by an estimated three vorns. Every vorn the war goes on increases the odds that one of us will be deactivated before it is over."

"We'll find a way to makes things work." Jazz promised, snuggling against his mate and momentarily wishing for his old frame back, which had seemed to allow so much more intimate contact. "We always have before. And I can watch all three, once they separate, and free you more."

"Yes, we will," Prowl actually growled as determination began to chase away the distress as he wrapped his arms around his mate and held him closely. "Primus gave us an incredible blessing. I won't let this war take that away."

Jazz chuckled. "Still love...three? Were you actually planning on _that_?"

Prowl nuzzled him into softly passionate kiss. "Planning, no. Hopeful," he kissed him again. "How could I not be very hopeful for a triad?"

"Because _one_ would have been a challenge?" Jazz countered, though there was nothing in his field but playful joy now that his mate was happy once more.

"Because three ... it's a cultural holdover from before we left Vos," Prowl murmured between kisses. "You've picked up that Praxians and Seekers are the only Cybertronians that are only carried?"

Jazz nodded briefly in agreement. He'd lived in Praxus long enough, in a Praxian household, to have picked up points of the culture even if he didn't always understand the why behind them.

"We may have evolved away from needing trines, but a triad is still something special," he tried to explain something that even he only _felt_. "That the first Praxians created since the fall of the city are a triad will bring much needed hope to the few of us that remain. They will be a much-needed boost to our numbers as well."

"Then you are forgiven for the unpleasantness that went into kindling these three." Jazz teased as he kissed him mate. Soft, warm emotion flowed over the bond and reached out to surround Prowl with care and affection. Affection and care replied as Prowl drew him down, lying on the berth and kissing him.

"Good," he purred deeply. "Because I want to do it against for the next creations."

A low groan escaped his mate. Resignation, since Jazz could not find it in himself to be excited at the prospect.

"It will be worth it," Prowl kissed him again affectionately with a tenderness the outside world never saw. "By then, I can be the carrier. Intentionally."

"I'm not objecting to carry. At least not yet love." Jazz murmured, stroking his mate's face and chevron gently.

Surprise flickered across Prowl's field and the bond. "I'd always assumed I would be."

Jazz helm tilted slightly to the side, gazing up at his mate. "Is that another Seeker thing?"

Prowl actually had to pause, then chuckled ruefully as he stroked his mate's plating. "It might be; the intellectual of the trine typically carries. I just always thought I'd be the carrier."

With a hum Jazz let the subject drop, basking in the gentle touch and his mate's affection.


	20. Political Battles

**Into the Light 11: Political Battles**  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ =================== ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Over the next decaorn Jazz found another reason to appreciate that even on restricted duties Prowl spent far more joors in tactical and his office than Jazz did having intel and low-risk skills drilled into him in SpecOps. It meant that Jazz was always home before his mate and had enough time to settle himself from the orn, get their energon set out, occasionally a few energon treats or high grade and the washrack prepped for settling Prowl.

Now well confirmed that they were expecting a triad, Jazz was beginning to see random Praxian visitors, always escorted by Bluestreak, Smokescreen or on one occasion Prowl. Though he still wasn't completely sure why it was such a big deal, the utter fascination the Praxians had with touching over his spark and cooing in a language he'd never heard.

It hadn't taken him very long to hide the flinch every time one of them reached for his spark, especially once he noticed that Prowl was not upset at the idea. In fact, Prowl puffed up proudly whether they wanted to touch him or Jazz, something that Jazz still didn't get. He soon chalked it up to another odd feature of his bonded's rather unique culture.

Jazz reflected on this as he looked out over the preparations. Energon, and the treats that he had asked Smokescreen to track down for him. There were a few sitting out by the oil, and a few tucked away in Jazz's subspace for fun later, if his bonded was in the mood.

With a start Jazz realized that he had been rubbing over his own spark, trying to soothe the nagging sense of stress that was there, and frowned as he checked the time. His bonded should be returning soon.

A flare of horrified anger seeped across the bond, almost instantly followed by a wordless insistence that it was just talk upsetting him, not danger. Hesitant acceptance of the reassurance and a wave of unconditional love was offered in return, as well as the promise that Jazz would be there when he arrived home. Thanks and love came in reply as the bond muted for nearly two more breems before the partial block eased to their normal level.

Prowl was still disturbed and stressed, but he was coming home and looking forward to it. His mood lightening with every step closer.

Jazz was at the door waiting when Prowl stepped inside, pulling his mate close for a kiss before it has even slid completely closed. ~Love.~

~Love,~ Prowl all but melted as he sank into the embrace he needed so badly, returning the kiss with a passion born more out of distress than desire.

"Dinner is ready." Jazz said between kisses, guiding his mate towards the waiting energon and the first steps in getting Prowl settled. It was a process he was achingly familiar with but gratefully simple and painless. Energon, the hot oil pool and plenty of gentle touching and affection. _Then_ ask what happened.

It barely took a breem to settle Prowl enough to talk this time.

"Ready to talk, love?" Jazz asked as they settled into the hot oil, treats that Jazz had laid out earlier close at hand.

"As much as I am likely to be," he murmured with a huff from his vents and drew his mate in for a gentle, affectionate kiss. "I had a meeting with Lord Naredba and Commander Crash Course after my shift." Distaste and grudging respect both flickered in Prowl's field. "We're planning how to rebuild our people now, based on my projections that I can end the war before the sparklings are fully upgraded."

"Which you can." Jazz murmured, all confidence in his mate's abilities as his fingers sought and found the tight cables in his mate's shoulders and set to work easing the tension there. "Why would that be upsetting?"

Prowl sighed, both in contentment at his mate's touch and in frustration at the memory. "They agreed to support my proposition, support that can all but guarantee is passes or fails, but in exchange they demanded something I'm not sure I'm willing to do," he shuddered, the sick, horrified shock creeping back.

Jazz wrapped his arms around his mate, pressing his frame close as he offered love and devotion and waited for Prowl to continue, knowing that his bonded would get to the point when he was ready. He felt Prowl gradually build up the courage to vocalize it, and it wasn't easy.

"They're demanding I bond with Lord Naredba's older sister, Lady Song," Prowl shivered. "As her second bonded, and legally replacing you as my first."

The designations were familiar to Jazz from his orns as a performer, but trying to work out where Prowl would fit, and how he would fit, weren't something he could manage through his mate's distress.

"What would that mean for you...for us...exactly?" He asked, needing to understand.

Prowl shivered but forced himself to follow all the legal and political intricacies involved. "I have enough of a traceable sparkline to the original founding expedition to be an acceptable hero, a savior of the city, but I have no ties to the royal line, or even a noble, no matter how far back one goes. I came from commoners, long before there even was a Praxus. The bond would make me a high ranking noble, and solidify her claim to be the next ruler of Praxus, a royal.

"You would still be my bonded, my mate, entitled to the title of Lord yourself," Prowl continued, trying to make it sound more appealing than it was. "They can not undo the bond, the will of Primus. They can change the legalities of who my First Bonded is, so I would have a proper mate as the hero," he actually hissed.

Jazz sighed, taking his time as he sorted through all of that, holding Prowl close. "So...she would be your First Bonded. You would be her Second. And I would be...your Second? For the good of Praxus?" He asked.

"Yes," Prowl nodded, shivering. He hated the idea, both for what it did to the status of his love, and at the idea of bonding to someone he hadn't even met yet. "That's the legal side of it. How _they_ fit in, what they'll do if I agree once the war is over and I may be more dangerous than useful as breeding stock, I can be far less certain."

Jazz went back to stroking Prowl's plating gently, trying to soothe both his mate's distress and his own unease. He would never leave Prowl, not willingly. He would also never hold his mate back from something that Prowl felt needed to happen. "So what did you tell them?"

"That I would think about it," he admitted uneasily. As much as he'd wanted to throw it in their face, he _needed_ their support and they all knew it. "I would feel better if I could work out why Naredba doesn't want to claim the title himself. He's in an excellent position to, and he must realize that I'd likely support the claim."

Jazz contemplated that, curious himself as he considered. "You want Velli to see what he can find out?"

Prowl startled, not just across the bond but physically. It was a true indication of just how rattled he was that he hadn't thought of it.

"If you would," he murmured into a tender kiss. "I will tell him no if you want me to," he offered. "I did not become the CTO for the political advantage. You are more important."

"Velli will see what he can discover. Jazz knew much gossip. Velli can learn more." Jazz said with a small smile before growing silent and serious.

Hands flexed briefly against Prowl's armor before laying flat once more as Jazz answered, his helm falling to rest on his mate's shoulder. "I want you to be happy. I want our family to be safe and secure. All of them. Whatever route you deem best for this to happen...I will follow you."

"I will see us safe, before I see to myself being happy," Prowl murmured as he held his mate, love and fierce determination in every electron of be being. "Perhaps..." he hesitated before plunging in. "Perhaps Velli can meet Lady Song? If you like her, it ... might not be so bad. I will not have you miserable for expediency's sake."

"Velli will see what he can do. He doesn't have near the clout Jazz did." Jazz murmured.

"I will arrange the meetings if need be," Prowl murmured. "Velli may not have much clout as Jazz did, but as my bonded and the one who holds the most sway in my choices, you have a great deal of clout in _this_. They will know that."

"Point love." Jazz conceded. With a sigh he focused on something else that was troubling him. "You have said what this would mean for us. What about _our_ creations?"

"They would be nobility. These three by bond, the future ones by inheritance," Prowl said softly, hesitating briefly. "There will be a great deal of pressure for me to carry all our future creations. Politically, it's bad enough that they won't have two Praxian creators, but if I carry them they would be fully Praxian, not kin." Regret filled Prowl's side of the bond. "I never wanted to be this politically important. I never wanted it to matter."

"Why?" Jazz asked, helm raising to look at his mate. "Why do you _need_ them?"

Prowl actually cringed slightly. "I worked out a way to rebuild our sparkline strength and numbers within two thousand vorns. Twenty three hundred on the outside to reach forty thousand adults. Thirty five hundred vorns to reach two million. It will be _hugely_ unpopular, however. The three of us have enough influence to get enough of the survivors to agree, but only if they back me fully."

"Why do they want you, specifically?" Jazz asked as he digested the concept of two million mecha coming from thirty in only thirty five hundred vorns.

"Because in backing me they are making me a social leader," Prowl sighed. "If they want any hope of keeping the old nobility in power during the rebuilding process, they have to have the leader of that rebuilding among them. Even if it's only by bond."

"It would seem to me, love, that they need you far more than you need them." Jazz sighed. "I do not like the idea." He admitted quietly. "But I meant what I said before. I will go wherever you go."

Prowl met Jazz's visor with a mildly confused expression. "Why do they need me at all? Without their support my plans will not happen."

"Without you they do not have a plan, anyone to run the plan, or any solid hope that the war is going to end any time soon." Jazz responded.

Prowl shook his helm. "They have a plan, they are capable of managing it. Mine is faster to results, but much less popular to put in practice. Ending the war is something separate. It only plays into when a rebuilding plan is put into effect."

"What do they want more?" Jazz asked.

Prowl snorted through his vents. "They want it all. A fast recovery, a scapegoat if it goes badly and credit to the nobility if it works."

"How important is it to _you_ that the recovery is so fast?" Jazz asked gently as he reached for his love's wings.

"I... it's the best way for Praxus to be rebuilt," Prowl said as uncertainty flickered through him. It wasn't a question he'd actually thought about.

"Why? _If_ it would happen eventually, why rush it?" Jazz murmured, leaning into to kiss his mate lightly. "We've already started. Set an example and let others follow. If it is their choice you are forcing nothing, and you will have their support."

The kiss was returned, but the bewildered core of Prowl's processors hurt Jazz's very spark. His mate had lost so much to the military, lost so much of his self to what had happened.

"Efficiency," Prowl eventually answered even as he realized just how poor a reason it was. "I wanted to see Praxus in its full glory. But to kindle with so many relative strangers, to bond when I don't wish to..."

"Then don't." Jazz growled, angered by the pain his mate had suffered, pulling back to look Prowl in the optics. "_WHY_ are you fighting this war? The _real_ reason." Jazz demanded.

Prowl was silent for long kliks, even the bond was silent as he traced back to his reasons. He cringed when he could no longer deny it.

"Revenge on Vos, on Starscream," he answered softly.

Jazz quivered in his arms, deeply troubled and his spark aching at the truth as he forced himself to speak. "And after you have gotten your revenge...then what do you want? _For you_?"

It wasn't the kind of question that Prowl had ever found easy to answer. He _thought_ too much for it to be easy or simple. For his mate he would, however, and give an honest an answer as he could.

"I want to go back to trading. I want to see you back on the stage," he smiled faintly. "I want to see Bluestreak and Smokescreen finally bond and have creations of their own."

"Then have your revenge, and let Praxus worry about itself." Jazz murmured, kissing Prowl gently. "If you want to plan a future after the war, plan ours."

"Yes, my dear," Prowl chuckled and kissed him back. "I will turn them down, and focus on the war ... and _you_."

"I certainly will not object to that." The mech in his arm purred, hands tracing Prowl's face and chevron as Jazz continued to kiss his bonded. "Want you to be happy. Want us to be together." He murmured, voicing his own wishes, those from the deepest parts of his spark.

"We _will_ be together," Prowl rumbled, the bond afire with how fiercely he'd fight for their future together.


	21. The Hazards of Youth

**Into the Light 12: The Hazards of Youth**  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ =================== ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"They are so adorable," Bluestreak giggled as he watched all three sparklings, their armor barely a thin coating on their protoforms, climbed over Idarassi.

"They are." Jazz agreed, voice full of deep contentment and warm affection as he watched his creations play. "Thank you for coming over for a while. With Prowl already working again they can be a handful."

There was no doubt that Jazz loved all three sparklings with all of his spark, but a single creation could be a challenge. Having to watch three high energy little ones alone was a feat worthy of Primus some orns. That they were all highly intelligent, curious, tenacious problem solvers like Prowl made it all the more straining.

Idarassi was almost flat to the floor, his long frame stretching most of the way across the room in sinuous loops. All of his scales were flat to his frame so no little fingers would get caught under them, and he had both hands folded under his chest to keep his sharp claws out of the way.

"Definitely a handful," the serpent-mech agreed, watching as he was thoroughly crawled over and explored. The tips of his glossa poked out, but whipped back in before emerging any farther. The sparkling with ice blue optics and a smoky visor - Overdrive, he'd been informed, the one Prowl had carried - apparently thought it was great fun to try and catch the sensitive appendage every time it flicked out. The little one with hints of bright red would come over any time that Idarassi forgot and let it come out fully more than a couple times.

"I can't wait until the war is over and we can have some of our own," Bluestreak purred at his lover and very soon to be bonded. "Prowl thinks it'll be when these three are just old enough to really help out watching them."

The golden yellow one of the three had settled himself on the serpent's back, studying the arrangement of the scales with a startling intensity for one of his age, and currently causing the least amount of trouble.

"He's looking forward to rebuilding." Jazz said with a smile of his own, knowing his bonded's wishes and visions for the future and looking forward to them himself. It wasn't going to be easy, but the world they wanted to create would give their creations a better functioning than the current generation had experienced.

Warm yellow optics lifted to meet Bluestreak's. "I very much look forward to it... They might be a handful, but they're an adorable handful." His glossa poked out, and then the half-serpent squawked as a small hand grabbed hold of it. Scales rippled and fluffed along his frame as he carefully pried the hand loose, pulling his abused glossa back into his mouth while the sparkling giggled and patted his neck.

"Don't worry, ours won't be quite that clever," Bluestreak snickered. "Probably only one at a time too, since I can't pull off the trick Prowl did to make three. I hope when they rebuild Praxus it'll be with all the current laws, not the old ways the nobles use. It's just too weird to favor one creation over another because of who carried it or such nonsense."

"Considering the complexity of my processors combined with Praxian processors, they'll still be very smart little scamps," Idarassi replied with a purring rumble that vibrated all the way down his frame. "And if they're of my frametype... They're going to be very sneaky, too!" Lifting one hand, he very, very carefully used his clawtip to tickle Overdrive, causing the youngster to giggle and grin brightly at him as he tried to grab and examine.

"What nonsense?" Jazz asked, halfway curious as he rose from his seat and went to move Sideswipe away before he could attempt to grab Idarassi's glossa as his brother had, bouncing the sparkling to ease the pouting look directed his way and sitting him with his twin.

"Oh, the nonsense about creation order mattering and such," Bluestreak shrugged his wingtips. "The nobles take more stock in who separated first and how much influence each creator had than in ability. If they have their way, Overdrive would be the only one even eligible to inherit, and only if he grows up _looking_ Praxian, and any creations I have with Ida would only could as full citizens if I carried them. Stupid nonsense. It was written out of the laws when my creators were younglings, but not everyone got the memo."

Jazz frowned as he steadied Sideswipe for a moment, the bright red twin slipping a little as Ida's frame vibrated. "So because I was the one who carried Sideswipe and Sunstreaker, they wouldn't have citizenship?"

"Under the old laws," Bluestreak nodded. "Well, they'd be citizens of the city of Praxus, but not Praxian." He scowled. "It never made any sense to me. Apparently Vos still has laws like that. To be a Seeker you have to be carried by one, but the strictest laws say everyone involved has to be a Seeker, or the creation is only kin. Praxus was like that, before more reasonable processors took over."

A hiss escaped the serpent-mech. "Stupid. I'm also hoping that old nonsense stays gone. What does it matter who the carrier was?" Keeping a careful optic on Overdrive, he poked out his glossa, flicking it so fast it was a blur before whipping it back in ahead of grabbing fingers.

Prowl nudged the bond as Jazz's stress spiked.

~It's...talk, love. Things I'd never realized. Blue and Ida are over helping.~ Jazz murmured across the bond as he worked through all of the implications of what Bluestreak had told him.

~Talk of what?~ Prowl focused more attention on his bonded.

~Praxian tradition...old law? Things I didn't quite understand.~ Jazz continued. Or things he realized, as sheltered as he had been by Prowl's accepting family, he might never have known. Prowl wanted him, he had wanted Prowl and clearly loved his bonded, and that had been enough for everyone that mattered once upon a time.

The way Prowl flinched across the bond was unmistakable this time. ~We came from Vos, and we weren't a revolt or discontent citizens. Praxus had always been proud of where we came from, but that meant we brought the bigoted and elitist ideals with us too. Our original laws came almost completely from Vos, and other than downplaying the importance of flight, they didn't really begin to change until after my creators were functioning. Not that long ago our bonding would have been grounds for breaking my wings and banishing us both, assuming we survived long enough for the legal system to deal with it.~

A physical shudder ran through Jazz, Sideswipe back in his arms and cradled against his spark without Jazz entirely realizing what he was doing at the mere mental image of his mate disfigured so and the reason. ~So I am...a blemish on your sparkline. And Sunstreaker, Sideswipe...~

~Not to anyone _I_ care about,~ Prowl growled, the full ferocity he was capable of rushing to the defense of his bonded and creations. ~Those are _old_ laws, abandoned before I was kindled. I will not allow such laws to matter to us.~

"Sire?" Overdrive forgot about Idarassi as he focused on his creator's distress.

Jazz relaxed, deep and warm affection slipping across the bond as he reached out for Overdrive as well and leaned against Idarassi so that Sunstreaker could settle on his shoulders. "It's nothing little one." He promised as he nuzzled Overdrive's helm, the creator bond flaring with truth for his creations to feel as he spoke. "I just learned something I did not know before. And that doesn't matter any more."

"Hasn't mattered for vorns," Bluestreak agreed. "They're stupid old laws. No one is going to care about them, especially after what Vos did to us."

"I'm glad to hear that." Jazz smiled, handing Sideswipe off to Bluestreak and taking Sunstreaker into his arms as well. The golden yellow sparkling trilled and cooed at his carrier while Overdrive patiently waited his turn, leaning against Idarassi. The serpent-mech distracted him with his flicking glossa and fingers.

"It wouldn't have mattered even without the war," Bluestreak went on as he cradled Sideswipe. "Sire and Carrier were head of the family, and Prowl was next up. He'd have crushed anyone who tried to make trouble for his creations."

~He _will_ crush anyone who makes trouble for my sparklings, any of them,~ Prowl added, firmly including those Jazz carried, and whether they looked Praxian or not.

~I know love.~ Jazz murmured, shifting Overdrive and Sunstreaker in his arms. "Ready to refuel?"

"Yes!" Sideswipe cheered, followed by his twin and brother.

"How do you manage to keep up with them every orn?" Bluestreak laughed in delight at the sparklings' exuberance.

"Help." Jazz answered with a smile as he settled them on the floor, a routine they were used to, and went to retrieve the small cubes of sparkling grade energon and the small treat that each would get after they were done fueling and before they went down for their nap. "Prowl is here as much as he can be, and between you and Smokescreen I manage. Most of the time."

"And we're good when he needs to hide in the pool," Sideswipe giggled.

"Jazz hardly ever _hides_ in the pool," Overdrive snickered. "He's usually with Prowl, and not being quiet at all."

Idarassi chuckled at the statements while Bluestreak tried to keep from doubling over in laughter.

"And you three are supposed to be recharging." Jazz said, reaching out to tickle his creations as he handed each their energon and reached out to his bonded. ~Love.~

A hum of affection replied from Prowl.

"After we refuel," Overdrive countered.

"Yes, brightspark." Jazz said with a laugh. ~I think we are going to have be careful when they start moving around on their own more.~

~Beyond the obvious, why?~ Prowl asked with open curiosity.

~Overdrive is already commenting on our activities in the pool. I think your brother is about to short circuit himself from trying to not laugh.~ Jazz informed his bonded.

There was a pause as Prowl went blank while his processors made the radical lateral shift in focus. ~Is he now?~ came across with a trickle of amusement, pride and embarrassment all mixed in. ~Let's hope that none of them take after Bluestreak's lockpicking talent.~

~Then you might want to say something to Bluestreak. I could see him teaching them just for his own amusement.~ Jazz pointed out.

~As if asking him not to would help,~ Prowl actually laughed across the bond. ~We _are_ discussing the mech who takes a locked door as an invitation more than an unlocked one.~

~This is true. You might have to resort to threats.~ Jazz said with a laugh as he looked over to where Bluestreak was cuddling with his mate.

~Bribery works better,~ Prowl replied, almost deadpan but for the background laughter. ~Fortunately they won't understand what they see until their mechling upgrades, and then they'll be doing it themselves.~

~This is true. Still might lead to awkward questions that _you_ will get to answer.~ Jazz promised, then offered an image of the three starting to drowse off after their energon to his mate.

~Given the alternative is to not interface unless they are in someone else's quarters, I accept your terms,~ Prowl agreed, his serious tone completely thwarted by the way he melted. Jazz even caught a hint that the internal smile had made its way to the outside as Prowl's attention was drawn towards startled reactions.

~We will be here when you got off work, love.~ Jazz promised over the bond, spark warm with love and eagerness.

::Help me move them to bed?:: Jazz asked, opening a comm to Bluestreak for assistance without cluing in the sparklings.

::Of course,:: Bluestreak agreed warmly as he scooped up Sideswipe and stood while Jazz handled Sunstreaker and Overdrive.

SxSxSxSxSxSxSxSx S===================S SxSxSxSxSxSxSxS

Idarassi lounged on the berth he shared with his lover and mate, coils draped in casual loops over the berth, tip curled around Bluestreak's ankle. One hand was gently stroking the smaller mech's back, gliding the tips of his claws over smooth armor.

"Do you really want sparklings, with me?" Bluestreak glanced over his shoulder as his two panel sensor wings flapped gently.

"I do," the half-serpent murmured in response. "Once Cybertron is safe for sparklings again, I would dearly love sparklings of our own." One clawtip gently traced Bluestreak's jawline. He smiled at the way his lover leaned into the contact.

"It'll be a better Cybertron, now that Prowl's got a say in it. He's too sensible to let it go right back to the mess that created this," Bluestreak murmured. "He and Jazz make very good looking sparklings too. I'm glad Jazz lets us help."

"They're adorable little things," his larger mate agreed. "A bit too eager to grab wiggling things for my taste - literally - but adorable nonetheless. I look forward to watching them grow, and I look forward to having our own underpede."

"They'll get past grabbing at will soon," Bluestreak promised as he turned his helm for a kiss. "Really, they know better now, but they're young enough they aren't being disciplined much yet. The first creation usually gets away with a lot more than later ones. Enamored creators and all that."

"I'll be glad when they have enough armor that I don't have to be so worried about hurting them by accident," Idarassi admitted, returning the kiss. His glossa tips tickled against Bluestreak's lower lip. "I've got so many sharp and pointy edges."

"Another couple metacycles and they'll have the armor and experience that you'll be able to relax around them," he giggled and shivered at the touch as he opened his lips to deepen the kiss. His hands began to caress familiar armor as his field flared with desire.

That agile glossa slid over Bluestreak's lip, teasing along his denta, fluttering against the smaller mech's glossa. Idarassi's field wrapped around and melded with Bluestreak's as his armor flared, allowing nimble fingers to slip underneath. The tip of his tail teased and explored the gray mech's ankle joint, weaving and curling around Bluestreak's leg.

The Praxian moaned, one hand moving to caress Idarassi's chest seam while the reached down to caress the large scale covering Idarassi's spike and valve opening.

Silver-gray chestplates unlocked audibly, parting enough for Bluestreak to slip his fingers into. Idarassi's pelvic scale was hot against his hand before it split and folded back, revealing the half-serpent's equipment, eager and ready for whatever the smaller mech had in mind.

Claws ran feather-light up Bluestreak's back, teasing at the bases of his sensor wings, then running slowly up along their lengths, finding and stroking every sensor Idarassi had ever been able to find. His tail shifted, another loop curling around Bluestreak's leg as the tip teasingly poked at the knee joint.

"Your tail in me, my spike in you?" Bluestreak quivered with a growing desire. "Take the edge off before our sparks."

Idarassi purred as he applied lips and agile glossa to his mate's throat cables. "I like the sound of that," he crooned against the cables, his tail sliding up higher. Bluestreak's panels slid open, his spike sliding free and pressurizing quickly while his valve eagerly anticipated the unique penetration that was his lover's tail.

The tip of the half-serpent's tail slid up Bluestreak's inner thigh, following an armor seam up to his hip joint before sliding over to tickle and tease the platelets surrounding his valve entrance. Idarassi's own valve cover slid back, platelets glistening with lubricants, as the serpent-mech squirmed slightly to apply lips and fluttering glossa to the nearest sensor wing.

The Praxian moaned and wiggled enticingly before he shifted to slide his spike into his lover, his mate, in a smooth, familiar roll of his hips. The moan was echoed as Bluestreak's spike slid into Idarassi's valve, the half-serpent's glossa curling around the gray mech's sensor wing, poking teasingly at a seam between the plates. The tip of his tail began to slide through the platelets, wiggling and rubbing against every sensor node in reach.

"Oh yeah," Bluestreak pressed into the contact, pulling his spike halfway out before he thrust back in. "You make me feel like no one ever has."

"I've never loved anyone the way I love you," Idarassi murmured against a trembling wing, running his hands up Bluestreak's back. His tailtip slid in deeper, the scales ruffling and flaring, the very tip wiggling against the ceiling nodes. His own valve rippled and flexed around Bluestreak's spike, drawing it in deeper. In the familiar dance Bluestreak willingly surrendered control of the pace and movement to his more coordinated mate, though he did his best to use his hands to draw a few more moans.

"Sparks tell the truth," Bluestreak shuddered in building pleasure. "I _know_, my love. I know more than words can express."

Deep gray, spotted armor and scales flared, allowing Bluestreak's hands access to the sensitive machinery behind it. Idarassi moaned softly in his mate's audial as clever fingers found one of the many sensor nodes that lay below his plating, sending shivers through his frame. The half-serpent slid a loop of tail around Bluestreak's leg, his scales rubbing lightly over the smaller mech's armor as tail and upper frame settled into a steady rhythm.

"Ohhh Idaaa," Bluestreak moaned into a keen. His frame shuddered and gripped his lover as the waves of pleasure were intensified by the undulated of the unique frame under and inside him. "So good."

A vibrating purr ran all the way through Idarassi's frame, helm to tailtip. He pressed his lips against Bluestreak's wing, right over a sensor cluster, upping the intensity of his purr. The fine scales on the end of his tail rippled in complex patterns against the walls of Bluestreak's valve, his own valve calipers rippling along the length of the smaller mech's spike. Clawed fingers slid into a transformation seam, teasing along the wiring.

"Idaaaa!" Bluestreak howled as electricity crackled across his armor, his entire frame on fire in pleasure he tried to share before he lost himself completely to the lovers' embrace.

A hissing keen of the gray mech's designation burst from Idarassi's throat as his mate's overload triggered his own. His tailtip wiggled once more against the smaller mech's ceiling nodes, his own valve tightening around Bluestreak's spike as bursts of highly charged and conductive transfluid rushed against sensor nodes. Hot air vented from under every piece of armor and every scale, brushing over his mate's armor as his own charge leaped and danced across his frame.

Slowly, gradually, they both settled, still buried deep in the other.

"Love you, Ida," Bluestreak purred lazily. "I want to bond. I'm ready to bond to you, if you're ready."

In answer, the half-serpent's chestplates parted, his spark pulsing in its casing, pressed against the side of its crystalline prison closest to Bluestreak. Feelers of purple-blue light were prodding at the casing seams, trying to find a crack through which to reach out.

"I am ready," the big mech murmured, tilting his helm to brush his lips against Bluestreak's. His lover moaned deeply and opened his chest plates as he squirmed a bit, reluctant to pull out but having to for the merge to be an easy one with how they were sprawled. Every move rubbed the tail inside him against his valve walls and drew another shivering moan.

Idarassi shifted his coils around Bluestreak, lifting the smaller mech slightly. Craning his neck, the half-serpent lowered his helm and flicked out his glossa, curling it around Bluestreak's spark casing and fluttering the tips against the sensitive crystal. Playful yellow optics gleamed up into soft blue before they disappeared from sight as Bluestreak's frame arched with a scream of ecstasy. His crackling blue spark, so alive with energy, reached out as the crystal spiraled open.

Threads of blue energy danced over Idarassi's face and along the length of his glossa before the serpent-mech shifted, his own chamber irising open. His spark reached out, twining with blue leaders, pulling both sparks together. This part of the dance was familiar, welcome, full of pleasure and good memories as it quickly deepened. Driven by Bluestreak's desire and Idarassi's willingness, the merge for pleasure soon eased that distraction as memories began to flood the other. At first they were good memories, centered on each other, their love and attraction.

The big mech's love wrapped around Bluestreak, as strong and unyielding as Idarassi's own coils. It seeped into every inch of the younger mech, warm and bright. The memories that drifted across were just as warm, snippets of the vorns spent with Bluestreak, after that first sight of him at the freak show.

Eventually, almost reluctantly, Bluestreak's spark nudged him for older memories. They knew they were of pain, hunger and humiliation, but they had to be shared.

A quiver ran through the half-serpent's spark and through his frame, but yielded up older memories. His cage at the freak show, the smell of death in the air, watching the Praxian exhibit's sparkless frame being taken away. Hunger clawing at his tanks from the meager amount of fuel the ringmaster let him have. Behind that, older memories, right back to Firewire's lab, memories soaked in pain.

Before Firewire was... nothing. Just flickers, feelings, the remnants of who or what the serpent-mech had been before his spark had been harvested for Firewire's experiments. Vague feelings of fear and hunger, but nothing concrete. Nothing to indicate who Idarassi had been before.

Bluestreak keened in pain for him, anger that he could not have been there to stop it even as he accepted that it was his love's past and part of what made the serpent-mech who he was. In reply came Bluestreak's earlier memories, knowing the trauma wasn't there, yet he was the one with separation and loss issues.

Idarassi wrapped his thoughts around Bluestreak's, radiating reassurance and warmth. He ached for what the younger mech had gone through, though Bluestreak was stronger for having gone through it.

~So are you,~ Bluestreak managed through the swirling memories neither really wanted to relive or share but their sparks insisted on. ~Love you.~

~Love you, so very much.~ The half-serpent's mind curled around Bluestreak's, radiating pure love. They both latched onto the other's love, devotion and desire to hold them steady while they focused on completing a bond that had been growing easier to form each time they merged.

Their awareness of each other began to grow, becoming sharper and sharper. The connection between their sparks deepened, the two orbs of light merging all the way to the core. Charge built between them, nipping and sizzling along their circuits as the bond wove itself together, growing stronger and stronger until the cores fused. The overload that tore through them caused both mecha to white out and soft boot back to awareness well after their chest plates had closed and their frames cooled.

~Ida?~ Bluestreak poked at the new part of his spark curiously, though the bond echoed more of how he thought, a combination of abbreviated glyph and images that allowed him to think much faster than most and was the core of his need for intelligent noise. Without the input, his processors started to go into loops than ran from painful to insane.

~I'm here, love.~ The half-serpent's hissing accent was present even thought-to-thought. His thoughts curled up to meet his mate's, twining around Bluestreak's, carrying an echo of his own powerful processors.

~Wow,~ was about all Bluestreak managed for a moment as he simply _felt_, and felt the input qualify as enough to keep his processors from running in circles on him. Slowly, cautiously, he booted up one of the secondary processors he had long ago put in standby to preserve his sanity. He'd never quite gotten the hang of using them, unlike his brother, who seemed to come by it naturally.

The half-serpent flowed more into the bond, watching with interest. All three of his processors were hard at work, and what came through the bond expressed just how hyperaware of his mate he was. There was input from the sensors under his scales, auditory and visual, and when his glossa flicked out an almost dizzying array of scents flowed through. Behind that were the billions of precise calculations needed to regulate his own strength and movement. ~You're just as amazing, beloved.~

~I ... I knew this would help the loneliness, the need to be with someone all the time, but I never realized ... I might actually be able to function fully in a few vorns,~ he whispered in absolute awe at the idea he'd abandoned as a youngling. ~Prowl tried, he tried so many times to teach me to use the extra processing power, but I never got the hang of it. I think ... I think I might just manage to, seeing how you operate.~

~Just regulating my sensory input and moving requires every scrap of processing power I have. I'll help you in every way I possibly can.~ Thoughts brushed against Bluestreak's in the non-physical version of a kiss, while Idarassi's glossa fluttered against Bluestreak's cheek in the physical version. ~You'll never be alone again. I promise you.~

~I know,~ Bluestreak shivered in pleasure at the truth that meant more to him than anything. ~I never realized it would feel this good,~ he quivered in delight, the bond flooded with all the tangent thoughts and data that Bluestreak dealt with every moment. ~So calming. So reassuring. So perfect.~

~It's the most incredible thing I've ever experienced.~ The serpent-mech kissed him again, his tail stirring slightly inside the gray mech's valve. Their merged sparks pulsed as one, the charge slowly rising.

~Agreed,~ Bluestreak moaned softly and kissed his mate, his bonded, in returned desire. ~Want your spike. Want to feel you overload inside me.~

The purr that ran through the big mech's frame was felt even through the bond. Slowly, Idarassi withdrew his tailtip from Bluestreak's valve, the very tip teasing the platelets before withdrawing. Strong coils shifted the smaller mech as the half-serpent's intricately-patterned spike pressurized out of its housing. ~Whatever you desire, beloved.~


	22. Training Incident

**Into the Light 13: Training Incident**  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ =================== ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Action, reaction. Think on his feet, adjust to his new life.

A small part of Jazz's processor knew that was what this simulation was about. Just like all the others that Whiplash had put him through in the last decaorn. Most of them hand to hand combat. A few assassinations. But each time the deactivation of his opponent was the goal, and each scenario with some little twist for Jazz.

A flicker off to his left, a flashbomb that he had dropped earlier. Enough to distract his opponent but something that Jazz was completely prepared for. Just as he was prepared for the opening that it presented as he buried his blade his opponent, deep in the place where a real mech's spark would be.

True to form and expectation, the resistance was there, the shocked look on his opponent's faceplates as optics went dark and power shut down. By the time the frame slid from Jazz's blade it was beginning to gray. He'd done some variation of this nearly sixty times. When he made mistakes, they hurt, but didn't kill. When he got it right, he saw a kill.

He stepped back, waiting for the simulation to end but also on guard for any of Whiplash's training tricks. All around him the digital construct deformed and disappeared, but the mech he'd been fighting remained where he fell.

That change froze Jazz in his tracks as he stared at the graying frame. Then his entire frame started to tremble as reality returned.

He _knew_ this mecha, this frame. From the last interrogation session Whiplash had made his observe. This was...he had...

~Love?~ Prowl was suddenly completely with him, offering warmth and love along with concern.

~Prowl...~ The trembling grew worse. He had just taken a spark. For no other reason than to _learn how to do so_. ~I-he-sorry~ Incoherent stutters flooded back, jagged emotions tumbling across the bond.

Grief and anger welled up from Prowl's side as he gathered enough to grasp the situation. ~I'm coming.~

"Good work," Whiplash's voice dragged Jazz's attention towards the real world again.

Jazz stared at him. "Why?" He demanded. Why now? Why this mech? Why?

"You did what you had to," the lithe matte black mech cocked his helm. "You know this was training you to do exactly what you did when you needed to."

"What did he do to deserve this?" Jazz demanded, knowing that they had gotten nothing from the mech when he had been watching.

"You mean besides provide intel to the Decepticons for the attack that deactivated Sentinel Prime?" the Ops chief leveled his gaze on Jazz. "Yes Jazz, I gave you a good, honest kill for your first. He deserved it as much as anyone."

That small part of Jazz's processor that was still rational conceded that point to the Ops commander. Treason was a crime worthy of deactivation.

It was Jazz's spark that was screaming incoherently about the energon that now stained his hands.

"Better you sort through this now than have it cost you on a mission," the matte black mech told him before turning to leave. "I'm sure your bonded will ensure you rationalize it."

At the mention of his bonded Jazz reached out, spark searching for Prowl's and the help that he needed so badly.

~I'm coming,~ Prowl promised. ~Hold yourself together, love. This is war. We will survive it together.~

Jazz leaned on that support, unable to take his optics off the corpse on the floor as he backed away from it and right into his mate's arms and quick, tight embrace.

~You'll be okay, love,~ Prowl promised. ~You helped me get through this and much more. I'm here for you.~

~How?~ Jazz demanded. ~How is this okay?~

~We're at war, love,~ Prowl murmured with a mixture of regret and the pragmatic nature that made him so effective. ~In the end, the side who out-kills is the side that wins. I tried to protect you from this as much as I could, even when you helped me after battles. It is the truth of being in the army. We are here to kill.~

His mate finally turned his back on the gray frame, burrowing into Prowl's arms and silently asking for comfort. Prowl held him and offered all he could, physically and through their bond, as well as taking the brunt of calming their distressed creations over those much weaker bonds and assuring Bluestreak who commed as soon as the sparklings began to panic.

It was the panic from their creations that finally forced Jazz to get himself under something resembling control. "Can we go?" He begged his mate.

Prowl nodded and drew him towards the door before turning so they were walking the same direction. "The sparklings will be home when we are."

"So I need to pull myself together." Jazz murmured.

"It is not bad for them to know that distress can be worked through," Prowl murmured. "But yes, it would be good to be ready to at least greet them."

The silver mech slowed, and Prowl could feel Jazz doing something he had rarely done off the stage, organizing his emotions and locking them down. Suddenly the mech that everyone else would see when they looked was calm and cheerful, completely composed.

Only Prowl knew that the spark underneath was still swirling in confusion and pain. He reached out across their bond and wrapped Jazz in warm love, support and understanding acceptance.

~There is no evil in killing because you must, my love,~ Prowl told him gently.

A shudder rippled across the bond. ~If I knew, could be sure that it was right.~ Jazz whispered.

Not good. It would never be good. But justified...right, maybe he could.

~No, killing is never good,~ Prowl agreed, some of his own weariness for it slipping through as they left the SpecOps sector. ~It can be accepted, however. We must accept it to survive this war. Just remember, if it is not your family, killing will be to protect your family.~

His bonded nodded slowly, the dread and confusion dying slowly, replaced with a desire to just be held and to hold his family. Prowl hummed his approval and wrapped his lover in a blanket of love, devotion, acceptance and support across their bond while they walked to their quarters.

Bluestreak gave them a shaky smile and nod as he slipped out just ahead of them.

Jazz didn't quite meet his optics, and when they reached the door he held back. "Go in first." He requested quietly, suddenly afraid. He had killed. What would stop him from hurting those he loved most?

~Oh love,~ Prowl murmured with a wave of calm certainty such a thing was impossible even as he complied with the request. Three sparklings under a vorn old rushed their Praxian creator as he knelt just far enough inside the door for it to close once Jazz joined them.

Jazz stood over them, watching Prowl greet them and flinching a little as Sideswipe escaped his sire's hold and homed in on his carrier, reaching out in demand. "Hold too."

~Prowl-~ Jazz's spark quivered.

~You are no danger to them,~ he insisted with all the firm, calculated belief that made him so difficult to argue with on other subjects. ~You are no danger to any of us. You are no more a monster than I am, my love. Less of one. Remember my first kill?~

Slowly Jazz dropped down, Sideswipe pouncing on him and Jazz holding him tight against his spark with the first touch. ~Yes.~ Jazz murmured, rubbing the red twin's back and nuzzling his helm.

~You did not believe me a monster, nor a danger,~ Prowl reminded him gently but firmly. ~This is what we are fighting for. This is why we learn to do terrible things. So we can come home and know that we have protected what is most dear to us.~

~You are not a monster love...and neither am I.~ Jazz repeated, rising with Sideswipe still in his arms and addressing the sparkling. "Did Bluestreak give you your dinner?"

"No!" Sideswipe said, easily distracted now that his carrier was no longer clearly distressed. "Hungry now."

Prowl smiled at the most physically inquisitive of their sparkling triad and stood, lifting Sunstreaker and Overdrive. "Then it is time to refuel for all of us."

It didn't take long for the sparklings to be fed and bathed for the night, bath time aided by the fact that by now all three knew that they would not get their before recharge treat until they were clean. It was quieter than usual, but the simple domestic chore, so centered on the next generation that Jazz had helped create, did a great deal to sooth the pain in Jazz's spark. At least for a time.

Treats given and the sparklings tucked in their low berths with rails to keep them from falling off before Prowl drew back without a word, giving his mate all the time with their creations that Jazz wanted.

The silver mech settled among the berths, though this time it took him almost a breem to start the rest of the nightly ritual. Finally he found a song, a soft lullaby that whispered of a dream filled recharge and a bright orn when they woke again.

Three sets of optics were dim with matching quiet systems before he was half finished, but Jazz went through the entire song anyway, taking in the peace from their quiet fields and letting it settle his own, locking the image and the feeling in his processors before finally rising to join his mate.

Without a sound Prowl guided his mate to the washrack and into the hot oil pool. It was time for gentle comfort, and a part of Prowl was pleased that he could finally return the support his mate had given him so many vorns before.

Jazz went along willingly, letting his mate take the lead as they settled into the oil that was already warmed and waiting, bubbling a bit as Jazz vented gently at the feel of it sinking into his joints as he straddled his mate's lap. Strong white hands ran down his back, soothing in their familiarity and the comfort of Prowl's field fully meshed with his and the bond wide open.

A gentle kiss was given to Jazz's visor.

"Feeling a little better?" Prowl asked softly.

"Yes love." Jazz answered, nuzzling at Prowl's helm before stealing a gentle kiss. "Not easy still, but..."

He was starting to work through it. Starting to convince himself that there was a reason. It was never going to be something that he was going to like. Probably something that he was never even going to be okay with. But it was something that he had to learn to deal with.

"Killing is never _easy_, love," Prowl trembled faintly. "When it is easy, that is when you become a monster. Did Whiplash at least let you know who that was?"

"After the fact. And after I observed an interrogation session with him where they got nothing out of him." Jazz answered.

Prowl nodded and rested his forehelm against Jazz's. "He really was a traitor. It was my unit, not Whiplash's, that confirmed it. You likely gave him the cleanest deactivation he had any hope for. Even if you didn't know you were going to kill a real mecha."

Jazz snuggled closer to his mate, accepting the comfort that was being offered. "Did you know he was going to do that?"

"No," Prowl murmured softly. "I knew Sidesweep would be deactivated as soon as I passed the order to Whiplash to stop him. I didn't know how. I didn't want to know how. I knew he'd been captured alive, and I felt ... sorry ... for him. I know Whiplash well enough to know what he does to traitors is ... gruesome."

A low x-vent escaped Prowl. "I knew your first kill would be here, during training. I demanded it."

The mech in his arms flinched, the abrupt movement going through Jazz's entire frame. But there was no argument, merely acceptance and trust of what Prowl wanted.

Prowl tipped his lover's face up so their optics met. "Do you understand why?"

"Because you knew I was going to react like this?" Jazz guessed, well aware of just how well his bonded knew him, inside and out.

Prowl nodded, relief flickering through the bond. "And more, because I _need_ you to be able to do what you must to come home. As sickening as killing for a training exercise might be, it is better to come to terms with it when you can break down and take the time you need to process. I cannot stop Whiplash from using you. I can make sure his training of you is as complete as possible. He does know how to train good agents."

"When I start missions though, you will be planning those. Right?" Jazz asked, hoping the answer was going to be yes.

"So long as Whiplash wants to continue functioning, I will be planning them all," Prowl promised with a gentle kiss. "Kamlock is _good_, one of the best for subterfuge that we have, but he's not as good as I am."

Jazz actually laughed a little at that. In anyone else it would have been arrogance talking. In his mate it was simply truth.

"It's good to hear you laugh," Prowl smiled slightly and kissed him. "I've feared you wouldn't laugh again until this nightmare is over."

With a start Jazz realized he hadn't laughed much lately, and when he had it had been confined to his family. To the antics of their creations more often than anything else. "I'll have to try and laugh more often." He murmured, latching onto the warm feeling it created in his bonded.

"We will have to arrange more happy occasions," Prowl said as he began to plan. "And more opportunities for you to perform. You taught me that the harder the war gets the more important it is to make time for what makes it all worthwhile."

A brief flare of eagerness rolled across the bond at the mention of performing once more, even if it was only for the mecha on base. There was a rush that Jazz got from being up on stage and the reaction he got from the crowd that was just _fun_.

"I want to feel more of _that_ in you," Prowl rumbled. "You, our creations, my brother ... you are my reasons for not giving up on being a good mech. I'll be strong for you, but I need your happiness to give me strength."

"Happy with you." Jazz kissed him, focusing on that feeling, the joy of Prowl being there in his spark that was the one light that never went dim. "As long as you need me, want me, I will be happy."

Prowl had been his happiness, his light for so long. For Jazz, the time before Prowl now was time of darkness and shadows that he never wanted to return.

A soft smile and warmth of pleasure at what they had wrapped around Jazz from his mate. "So long as we remain strong, there will be a bright future after the war for us. A time when Jazz can return to the stage and Prowl can gracefully slip into the shadows to trade and manage. We'll rebuild our family and it will be even stronger."

"Tell me about that time." Jazz requested, nuzzling at his mate before kissing Prowl. "Tell me what you see, what you want, what you are planning. Help me see it too."

"Anytime love," he purred and took out a data cable. With smooth fingers they made the hookup and dropped their firewalls.

Jazz moaned, relishing this intimacy that Prowl guarded even more jealously than his spark. As the initial rush died down he slipped smoothly into the painfully ordered universe that was Prowl's processors. It was as alien to him as anything, but it also welcomed him. Not in the warm emotions of Prowl's spark, but in that he was allowed to be there. There were no doubts in either of their processors that Prowl was capable of locking Jazz out even without any firewalls between them.

Gently Jazz was guided to a section, a fairly small section, that felt and looked a bit more like his. There were emotions here, memories and plans that were of a personal nature. Love, pain, fear, regret, joy, passion ... everything Jazz had long known of his mate but few others saw.

With gentle nudges Prowl guided Jazz towards the things he wanted to know. Creations, so many creations, and always in the pattern that he'd grown up with. Praxian frames and those that looked more like Jazz. Two at a time, with all the attention focused on them until they were grown and solidly on their own pedes. Only then would the next creations come. It would still average six a millennia, more than most raised in a lifetime.

~Trying repopulate Praxus with just the two of us, love?~ Jazz asked, the question full of gentle amusement and eagerness. Desire and hope that the ones resembling him more meant Prowl was willing to let him carry again, despite the potential social ramifications.

~If you wish to carry some of our creations, I would be pleased for you to,~ Prowl purred in reassurance. ~So long as you aren't jealous that I wish to carry some as well.~

~Why would I be jealous?~ Jazz asked, affectionate memories of Prowl carrying Overdrive rising to where Prowl could see them. He was warmed by the delight Prowl took in seeing them.

Prowl shared a few of his own, memories full of familial pleasure and a bit of relief as his assessment of Jazz as a good carrier were proven true. The excitement at watching Jazz's shape change as the protoform manufacturing progressed. The intense joy at watching the twins emerge, Sunstreaker first for once, only breems before Overdrive initiated separation protocols himself.

~He can't stand the idea of being behind his brothers in anything.~ Jazz pointed out, affectionate amusement for their creations flaring brightly before a particular detail caught his attention. ~Why were you worried about me carrying?~

~You'd never carried before. No matter my calculations, belief, and my carrier's assessment, there is no way to be sure how you'd react until it happened,~ Prowl assured him gently with the truth every tactician learned early and entirely too well.

~Well, it's happened. And I would like for it to happen again.~ Jazz was quick to assure him in turn. ~What did your carrier think?~

~That you had a solid, affectionate temperament and caring nature that would make you a good creator and a strong spark that would make you a fine carrier,~ Prowl shared the memory that had been almost intentionally made fuzzy to enhance its warmth.

~Nice to know that they approved of me.~ Jazz purred.

~You had doubts?~ Prowl teased back, the words wrapped with affection, but also with the knowledge that Prowl was unlikely to have continued with Jazz had there been a serious objection made to their eventual bonding.

~I had hope.~ Jazz replied with equal affection. ~So where are we going to put all these creations if they decide to stay? Or if we end up with more than two again?~

Jazz was nudged towards a section that was on the border with the logical and intensely structured part of Prowl's processors, an area suited to respond to the logistical question. The tower was perhaps a simple one, the outline and details full of notes referencing Jazz providing the decorative design. Yet the floor plan and structural design was firmly laid out with rooms for them, their creations, Bluestreak, Idarassi, Smokescreen, servants and more. Included were also several empty floors for eventual conversion to homes for adult creations and their mates and creations, and the system for expanding when they needed more room.

It was all so very Prowl in the elegant, practical and well-designed simplicity, but also in the plethora of mental notes about Jazz filling in the decorative aspects and customizing by the individuals that would live there.

Jazz stopped, slightly in awe. Not at what his mate was capable of imagining, but that Prowl believed they could have that. Slowly he looked over everything, studying the plans, the details. Already imagining what he might do with the places designated as _theirs_.

~I have always invested in what I enjoy, what I want,~ Prowl smiled at the reaction. ~Yes, we will be able to have that when the war is over. We will be able to look out over the fledgling crystal gardens of a New Praxus every orn.~

~And space enough for the entire family.~ Jazz sighed, noting that their personal quarters would in theory be situated with one of the best views of the gardens. With a smile he went back to the memory of their first kiss, its location and somewhat awkward timing.

The heat from Prowl spiked with a surge of arousal that was nearly blinding and this time Prowl had very little resistance to it. The physical kiss was hard and demanding, almost desperate in its need. It matched the memories of that moment from Prowl's side, a moment that had sorely tested the Praxian's self control and left him shaking, in desperate need of relief. Relief that he'd found in his own hand and a fantasy of what their first time would be like.

A fantasy that even in this state shocked Jazz with its accuracy and clarity. How much his beloved already knew of his frame, his field, his voice, his fears before they'd ever touched as lovers. It had the slightly fuzzy detachment from time and physics of all fantasies, the lack of awkward moments that reality had brought, but even so it showed Jazz just how long his love had been collecting knowledge and how accurately he could extrapolate the few things he had no knowledge of.

~So sorry love.~ Jazz apologized again as he kissed back, though not with quite as much fire. He was sorry for tormenting his love like that. For his fear being the reason that Prowl had been forced to suffer so. ~Don't want to leave you again. Ever.~

~You never will,~ Prowl murmured in reminder of their bond, accepting the apology even as he reassured his love that it wasn't needed with another kiss that was a touch more gentle but even hotter. ~No matter what, we will always have this.~

~Thank you.~ Jazz replied, the tension easing more in his spark. ~Love you.~ He whispered across the connection, frame shuddering from the desire and arousal pouring into him as he pressed into the kiss, as needy as that first time.

~Love you,~ Prowl moaned, as vulnerable to that desire and his mate as the first time, only now there was no reason to hold back. His hands roamed his mate's frame, fueling that fire between them as his spike slid free into the hot oil.

~Share with me.~ Jazz begged, valve cover retracting quickly, seeking this to drive away the bad, just as it had before. To blur the sharpness of the dark memories pulling at him. Prowl pulled him deeper into his processors, enveloping him in the intense pleasure of sliding into Jazz's valve. It was pleasure that was less about the physical stimulation, though that was intense, and far more about who it was with.

Prowl's hands grasped Jazz's hips, guiding his motions into the thrusts. They'd barely gotten into the rhythm when Prowl unlocked his chest plates, silently asking for everything.

~It's already yours.~ Jazz reminded him, that memory bringing its own intense flood of joy as his spark answered for him, armor parting and tendrils reaching. Their sparks embraced, delving into each other with an eagerness that never faded. Pleasure spiraled outward, physical bliss that made them moan and shudder, but it was merely a side effect. The true joy was in the unity they both desperately didn't want to end.

Jazz dove in, offering and accepting the warmth and promise of his mate. The comfort being with Prowl brought, despite their differences. Differences that in the end only made them stronger and more complete. Differences that Prowl reveled in, adored and treasured deeply for what they brought to their unified strength.

~Love you,~ Prowl groaned, shuddering in the pleasurable assault on his frame that he shared every detail of through the bond and hardline.

~Prowl.~ Jazz moaned, loving, pleading as he shuddered from the pleasure and offered it back to his mate. The Praxian keened in the swift overload he embraced fully, the bliss of full acceptance and support washing away a little more of the pain he held from his choices as an Autobot officer. Nothing would ever wash away it all, but this, Jazz's love, was the balm that soothed it. Comfort that his mate needed as well as they lost themselves in the pleasure, Jazz collapsing against his mate when the energy finally let them go.

Drifting in the post-overload, the couple's sparks reluctantly parted and their armor closed.

~I'm not sure who needed that more,~ Prowl hummed lazily over the hardline, mentally nuzzling his mate. ~Sometimes I get too caught up in my own memories.~

A small shudder rippled across the connection, but Jazz seemed more able to face it now as he bodily pressed against his mate. ~How did you handle it?~

~Poorly, though in a different way,~ Prowl actually chuckled ruefully, guilt flickering up from a section of memories that refused to remain archived. Reluctantly he brought that file to the fore.

It was Jazz's first experience with one of Prowl's memories where they weren't crisp, clear and flawless. This was a jumble of still images linked together by timestamps, instilled with fear and only annotated joors later and less than thoroughly. Most were of a single mecha or two, a few of the broader battle, and far, far too many were of gray frames.

~My first battle,~ Prowl supplied. ~This is what little didn't go straight to my tactical computer for real-time analyzation. I listened to my own comm recording at the base kept a few orns later. It was strange to hear my voice be that calm and collected when I knew I was panicking and fighting for my spark. Stranger to realize that _I_ wasn't directing that battle or the comm messages, even though I was.~ He shivered as it came to a still of a mecha's faceplates superimposed on a slightly wider scene. His red optics wide and bright as the processors behind them registered a death blow, a laser blast through the spark. ~My first direct kill. I still don't know his designation.~

Jazz processed the memory, sorting through it in a way that he never had to before with one that Prowl had offered him before offering his own conclusion. ~Still glad that it was him instead of you.~

~That is the one aspect I will never disagree with you on,~ Prowl hugged his mate. ~I sent six sparks back to Primus in that battle. What keeps the guilt at a tolerable level is the knowledge that they would have killed me given a chance. Two were trying. Just as Sidesweep was trying to kill you, and would have without hesitation if you hadn't ended him first.~

~I'm sure. Wonder what Whiplash promised him.~ Jazz sighed, burrowing into the touch.

~My guess is he handed him that knife and told him he would die if he didn't get you first,~ Prowl murmured. ~He wouldn't need to say anything else. He's not beyond using the complete truth if it works.~

~True.~ A bitter truth that Jazz knew too well himself.

~I'm doing all I can to protect you, but I need you to learn his lessons well,~ Prowl murmured, full of regret. ~He went to a lot of trouble to get you. He wants you to succeed, to survive. In that, all three of us are on the same side. Never trust him, but he will teach you well if you let him, and I'll always be here for you, just a thought away.~

~And I for you.~ Jazz promised.


	23. A Walk in the Park

#Into the Light 14: A Walk in the Park#  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ =================== ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The silver mech slipped quietly through the halls of the base. It was late, and there were really no mecha out and about to notice his passing. His first mission had gone well, so simple and easy as to almost be laughable. Jazz had done more difficult things during his time as a part time agent.

Still, it was very late in the orn, and reporting to Whiplash had only put him later. All Jazz wanted to do was to return to the quarters he shared with his bonded, peek in on their creations, and join his love in recharge. He was careful to be quiet when he opened the door to his quarters, a rather large apartment, really, and stepped inside. For a moment he was still, taking in the space and comparing it against memories, seeking the changes.

He knew, right to his core, that there would be none. Prowl wouldn't tolerate it, not while he was gone. His mate knew entirely too intimately that Jazz had moments that bordered on paranoia now about his environment.

A warm, soft caress encircled Jazz's spark from a very much awake and aware mate when he relaxed, accepting that the entry/living room was safe. He reached back with a wave of love and affection, savoring the feeling of his bonded in his spark that could not be altered or imitated. ~Are they down for the night love?~

~Joors ago,~ Prowl silently urged his mate to go in and see them. ~They begged me to stop trying to sing.~ Amusement flickered across the bond along with the memory of his dismal attempt to do what his mate did for them every night.

~My poor love.~ Jazz teased, all warm affection over the bond as he slipped into their creations small berthroom and wove his way between the sparkling berths. At each one he stopped, field reaching out to brush against the recharging sparklings and full of love and assurance.

Jazz started to sing softly as he worked his way through all three berths, reaching out to rub Sunstreaker's helm gently when the little one shifted restlessly and staying until he settled again.

~You didn't wait up this whole time?~ Jazz asked, concerned as he exited the berthroom and made his way into the washroom, determined to at least rinse off the worst of anything that he might have picked up while he was out before joining his mate.

~No, I set an alarm to wake me when you left SpecOps' sector,~ Prowl assured him. ~The oil is hot and the shower ready. How did your mission go?~

~Easy enough. I had more difficult assignments when I was still performing under my real designation.~ His mate assured him as he entered the washrack and into Prowl's waiting arms.

~I'm glad,~ Prowl purred with a kiss before reaching to turn the solvent on. ~They won't all be this easy, but at least this one went well.~

~It did.~ Jazz repeated, kissing his mate again as he waited for the solvent to warm. ~Nothing useful gained but experience, but it still went well.~

~Experience will keep you alive when I can not,~ Prowl murmured, all too aware that his plans could only do so much once mecha were involved.

~I have faith in you love.~ Jazz murmured as he kissed Prowl again before slipping under the solvent. ~Have faith in me.~

~Always,~ Prowl murmured as he stepped in with his mate and picked up a cloth and bottle of solvent. ~It does not stop me from worrying.~

~Sorry.~ Jazz still blamed himself for the situation they found themselves in now. For the fact that he had added to the stress that his mate was already under.

~You did what you believed you needed to,~ Prowl waylaid the apology as he went to work cleaning the dust and dirt and _smells_ of low-end bars from Jazz's frame.

Jazz leaned into the touch with a groan of pleasure. Just getting clean was wonderful. His mate's attention made it perfect, even if Jazz couldn't stop the small surge of regret.

He had done everything but rely on his mate, even if he had thought that he was doing the right thing by trying to help Prowl without being more a burden.

~You were never a burden,~ Prowl whispered across the bond. ~You never will be.~

A shudder ran through Jazz's frame as he reached out blindly to pull his mate close, clinging to Prowl. His mate embraced him, holding him tightly. The bond hummed with soothing reassurance that the words were true. Jazz had never been a burden, not in Prowl's optics. Prowl loved him too much.

~How?~ Jazz wondered, still in awe of someone loving him that much. Giving love was as natural to him as the pulse of his own spark, but the idea that there were those who were willing to offer _him_ the same was something he still had a hard time processing.

~You give me too much to ever be a burden,~ Prowl responded, the question drawing his more analytical side to the fore. ~You love me. You balance me. You remind me that hope is real, and for me. You _created_ with me.~

There was a sense that the list went far beyond that, but Prowl intentionally muffled his literal and detailed nature.

Jazz laughed, though the sound came out as more of a sob against his mate's chest before he pulled back and reached for the scrub. "Want to finish cleaning. Want to spend the rest of the night in your arms."

"I'd like that," Prowl agreed with a rumble.


	24. Escape Tactics

**Into the Light 15: Escape Tactics**  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ =================== ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jazz pulled farther into the shadows, hiding as he evaluated the damage to his leg. This mission, while highly classified and important, was not supposed to have been difficult. Especially not after having been operating as an agent for over twelve vorns.

Sneak into the Decepticon base, acquire the schematics of their new machine, plant some misinformation, evaluate their strength and numbers if he could, and get out.

There was not supposed to almost triple the number of mecha on the base as the original analysis had suggested. Nor were Soundwave and his pets supposed to be among them. Those pets were his top concern at the moment. He was good at hiding from normal mecha. But the feline who used his olfactory sensors and their master who scanned for processor waves, that was a whole different game and one that even though Idarassi and Blaster helped him train for it, he was little better than he was to start with.

"Autobot: surrender," Soundwave's distinctive voice demanded from around the corner as two avian mecha flew over Jazz.

"Now why would I want to do something silly like that?" Jazz countered, reaching for a blaster and a blade. He felt the pressure in his processors of the telepath reaching into his mind, likely to rip out his ability to fight, but it was the glossy black feline, Ravage, that got his attention first as it lunged at him, jaws open and claws out.

With a small snarl of his own Jazz shoved at the presence in his processor, very familiar with the sensation of having a more powerful mind than his own in there, and lunged to meet the feline, blade swiping in a counter.

Ravage twisted to avoid the strike, which opened Jazz up to the lasers of the two avians above. While they weren't powerful enough to kill without a trillion-to-one shot, they hurt like the blazes and could hamper him. Heavier blaster fire snapped past his face and shoulder as the two mech-form cassettes joined in.

He wouldn't have had much of a chance even if his leg had not given out, but under the strain the limb collapsed, blade and blaster knocked from grasp as he went down under Ravage's second strike. He was immediately under a pile of three microbots, one of them biting and clawing.

It was almost a relief when Soundwave stepped up to stand over him impassively, signaling his pets to stop. "Autobot: has been captured."

Across the bond Jazz felt his mate snap to full awareness of him and his situation. ~Vulnerable to music. Think of that, always changing it. I'll get you out.~ Prowl whispered to him before he had to back off or risk Soundwave noticing him.

Jazz stopped struggling and instead focused on his mate's advice, picking one of the first songs he had performed onstage and setting it to run in his conscious.

The presence in his mind pushed deeper, but Jazz could _feel_ how it was distracted analyzing the music. It didn't stop Soundwave from picking him up, arms pinned to his sides, and walking him to the brig with his pets all around.

Jazz couldn't help a little bit of a mental smirk as he varied his music even more, switching between things he liked, things his mate favored, and variations of the lullabies that he had sang to his creations at night. That brought thoughts of the sparklings up, and Soundwave quickly focused on that.

~Praxian. Jazz's mate is one of the Praxians.~ Soundwave's thoughts were inside Jazz's, intimate in a way that only Prowl had been before.

Jazz growled audibly, struggling in the mech's hold again and ignoring the waves of pain that washed through his frame. ~None of your business.~ He retorted before increasing his efforts, doing only one verse from any song before switching to another one.

~Jazz: a prisoner,~ Soundwave responding, easily holding onto the smaller mech. ~Jazz: has no right to secrets. Which Praxian carried Jazz's spawn?~

~The one in your imagination.~ Jazz snapped, picking a particularly tricky piece of music to focus on. Soundwave backed out of his processors as he was tossed into a small, dark cell and left alone to stew.

Jazz felt the presence depart as he had felt it come, and allowed the music to fade to a secondary background noise as the focus of his attention returned to assessing the state of his leg and the additional damage done by Soundwave's pets. As he relaxed Prowl nudged the bond, checking on him.

~We're doing on all we can. Even Whiplash is furious. Just hold on.~

~I'll do my best love.~ Jazz promised, adding information quickly. ~Soundwave and his minions got me. Something big going on. Too many mecha here.~

Prowl added that to his data and his calculations. ~Did you get a map?~

~Nothing nice and solid, but the territory I covered myself...~ Jazz visualized the layout as best as he could for his bonded.

~It's more than we had,~ he sent a wave of _approval-thanks_. ~Who else is _dangerous_?~

~Megatron's favorite pet Seekers, Starscream and his cronies. Which may or may not mean that Megatron is present himself.~ Jazz informed his bonded. ~As for others, I'll keep my audios open, but I haven't seen or heard of anyone important.~

~Alert me of anything interesting,~ Prowl ordered, his need to be a strong, commanding tactician warring with his need to comfort and protect his bonded mate. ~We're coming as soon as we can.~

~Trust you.~ Jazz said, full faith in his mate sliding across the bond before the connection went dim again. He didn't have long before Soundwave was back with two mid-sized Decepticon grounders.

"Autobot: resistance will be punished." Soundwave warned him evenly before the cell was opened and the two grounders entered to escort him out.

"What sort of resistance?" Jazz countered, not fighting the grounders as they pulled him painfully to his feet but putting the music back into play again in his processor, a shuffling list of snippets he had been working on the entire time.

The question was ignored was Jazz was walked out of the brig, through the halls crammed with soldiers that parted quickly for Soundwave, and to a non-descript door labeled with the telepath's designation. When Jazz got a look inside, it was disturbingly empty of itself and equipment. There was a berth with restraints in the center and a computer station on one wall, but the place seemed otherwise empty.

Without direction the grounders lifted Jazz and secured him on the berth, then left.

"Autobot: choice is yours," Soundwave informed him as the blue mech withdrew a thick data cable with a medical jack on it. "Drop firewalls: pain will be minimal."

"Pain versus co-operation with you? I'll take the pain." Jazz responded, training kicking into gear and bracing him.

"Choice: accepted." Soundwave replied before plugging into Jazz's primary medical dataport.

For Jazz, there was a long moment of relative calm as the telepath assessed him within the hardline connection. He took the moment to check all of his firewalls and defenses once more, sure that this was not going to be a pleasant experience. Even Whiplash was disturbed by the idea of being interrogated by Soundwave. It didn't bode well for Jazz.

The first layer of firewalls fell almost as if they weren't there, allowing the telepath full access to the conscious thoughts, feelings and knowledge that were systematically rifled through.

Jazz growled at the intrusion, doing his best to fight it and feeling the strain of his pathetic attempts against the telepath. He was massively outclassed and it was getting harder and harder not to accept that.

He felt more than heard the first scream that was ripped from his vocalizer as the hacking shifted to the brute force attacks one set of firewalls was most vulnerable to. What happened beyond that Jazz was hard pressed to tell, other than pain and confusion.

Unconsciousness, when it finally came, was a relief.

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Jazz had one consistent thought as he lay in his cell, having regained consciousness after at least an orn spent under Soundwave's personal care.

There was not a part of him that did not _hurt_. His frame ached. His processor was functioning painfully slowly, and each time he tried to focus on the bond with his mate he was punished with a wave of agony.

It was every kind of miserable he could imagine.

Then fate decided to add to his misery when the alarm sirens howled to life. The sound tore through him, another level of agony on top of what his pained processor was already trying to handle.

"Time to move," a rich, cultured voice broke into his awareness.

"Not sure I can." Jazz groaned, each word an effort as he attempted to raise himself up so he could look around. His visor was damaged, though not completely fragged, so he could tell the cell was open, and there was a body laying in the open, but he couldn't see who was speaking.

"Then lean on me," the voice responded stiffly, unhappily, as the air shimmered to reveal a slender blue and white mech of noble design and bearing. Something in Jazz's processors said he was of Crystal City, though his accent wasn't.

Still, it was a way out. Even if his captors were toying with him Jazz wasn't sure that he could be in much more misery.

A grunt escaped him as he got an arm around the mech's shoulders, the slender frame supporting his weight far easier than Jazz had expected.

The air shimmered in front of him again, causing what was left of his vision to dim even more. "Don't talk. Don't comm. Just move with me." The noble next to him instructed, taking the first step.

It took a few tries before Jazz worked out the motion of the other mech, but once he did the going got faster and smoother, a fact his aching frame was especially grateful for. His rescuer moved him against a wall now and then so that mecha rushing by didn't collide with them.

Explosions rocked the base now and then. Near the entrance Whiplash darted by, made quick work of demolishing a hole in an outside wall and kept moving into the absolute chaos beyond.

This, at least, was familiar. Jazz had seen operations like this before, and had participated in them as well. Some of his mate's handiwork at its finest. When Prowl wanted to create confusion and apparent chaos, he could orchestrate it like few others.

The mech had a hatred of Soundwave that bordered on insane. The last orn would no doubt have hyped that up to the max.

The further into the battle they moved, the more Jazz relaxed, hoping that this was real. It was beginning to feel real.

But he was ordered to silence and would have to wait until they were out to be sure. And the further they went the more effort Jazz had to put into simply taking another step, chasing thoughts of curiosity and questions from his processor.

His vision soon focused on a medlift jet and every step closer his hope rose. The slender mech he was leaning against walked up to it, then handed him off to the familiar face of Lifeline. The bay door closed and the jet VTOLed briefly before darting towards Iacon with Jazz and five other injured on board.

"You gave a few mecha quite a scare," Lifeline actually sounded slightly amused. "Or rather your mate did. He has quite the command presence to him when he feels like making a display of himself."

"Prowl has always been aggressive in defending what is his," Jazz answered, amusement creeping into each exhausted word as the medic helped him settle.

"I'm glad he's on our side," Lifeline said before reaching in to drop Jazz into medical stasis.

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The boot-up from a medical induced stasis was sadly familiar to Jazz, though for some reason he couldn't seem to place quite why he had been under as he came around this time. He did know that his processor ached like someone had spent the last vorn beating him upside the head with heavy tools.

Had he done something to upset Ratchet?

Priorities rearranged themselves, and Jazz reached across the bond for his mate before the rest of his systems had even finished booting. Prowl would know. He always knew.

The rush of relief from Prowl's side of the bond was more frightening than anything Jazz came up with on his own.

~I'm here,~ Prowl murmured, actually trembling inside as the bond went wide open. ~What do you remember last?~

~ I remember sitting down for my SpecOp's backup ... five orns ago. Are you are all right? What happened?~ Jazz asked, wrapping his bonded in love as he still tried to figure out what was wrong. Five orns. His mission should have happened.

That meant...

~Your mission went badly,~ Prowl confirmed even as he began to relax. ~Soundwave was there, and three times the forces from our last intel report. We almost didn't get you out.~

Jazz flinched. It was a risk taken every time an agent went on a mission, the chance of getting caught and the enemy getting more information out of you than you were supposed to have gotten from them. Still, Jazz had to ask. ~How mach damage did I do by getting caught?~

There was real quiet on Prowl's side of the bond for a painfully long moment.

~Of military intel, very little. You do not know much of what I do for just this reason,~ the pain of not having a confidant in Jazz rippled between them briefly. ~Of things to use against me, against the Autobot's Chief Tactical Officer and Third in Command ... everything.~ There was a longer pause as Prowl reluctantly accepted that his mate would find out anyway. ~Six deactivated, twenty-eight injured ... and a major Decepticon offensive against Iacon thwarted.~

~Love...~ Jazz whispered across the bond as that sank in. He knew that he had little in the way of intelligence to surrender. And the sparks and injuries weighed against the foiling of the planned assault was even enough for Jazz as well.

What tore at his spark was the danger he had placed his mate and his family in now. The information that Soundwave, cunning and cruel as he was, could now level against them. ~So sorry!~

~I know,~ Prowl murmured, trying to sooth. ~I have already adapted my plans and patterns to compensate for what Soundwave learned.~ He paused briefly and smiled as light fingers slid down Jazz's chest plate. ~But it does mean that there is no reason for you to continue to hide who you are.~

At the touch Jazz finally finished booting the rest of his systems, vision focusing on the mech above him through a repaired visor. Stiffly his hand rose to catch that of his mate's, holding it tight.

~True, love. Is there a way we can use that?~

~I've been working on it since you were captured by Soundwave,~ Prowl said with a soothing wave. ~Right now I'm more concerned about how you are. They wiped you and installed the backup. It was most unsettling from my perspective.~

Jazz leaned into the comfort, needing far more than he wanted to admit and still deeply worried about the potential danger he had placed his family in. ~It is...very disturbing to not know what happened.~ He admitted quietly to his mate, that paranoia of that empty space where he knew he had been conscious but had no idea of what he had _done_ tearing at him.

~Shu, it's better than having Soundwave's work in your processors,~ Prowl leaned down to kiss him lightly. ~Feel ready to rest in our berth?~

~Yes, please.~ Jazz said, wanting to be out of the medical wing that he seemed to spend far too much time in and in the comfort and safety of someplace familiar. Preferably in his bonded's arms.

~I think our creations will claim you first,~ Prowl teased lightly as he helped Jazz to his pedes. ~I will have you all night, however.~

~Want to be yours.~ Jazz replied, pulling his mate close for a kiss, needing to be Prowl's. ~Are they all right?~

~Other than distressed about your absence, they are fine,~ Prowl reassured him with a soft purr of his engine. ~Bluestreak and Idarassi are watching over them right now.~

~Let's go see them.~ Jazz said, wanting to feel and see for himself that they were well. He felt Prowl's approval and eagerness in reply as they walked to their quarters in relative silence.

~I am looking forward to everyone knowing the truth about who my bonded is,~ Prowl commented softly.

~As am I.~ Jazz said, the relief at the fact that he would no longer have to hide, that the dirty looks he has gotten for so long would be gone, was a relief to his spark. That his creations would not have to suffer for his lies and failures, or at least not that one, was an even greater relief.

The door to their quarters slid open and Jazz barely had time to step inside before three sparklings, each a more than a third his mass, assaulted him with hugs and trills of joy. He dropped under the assault, allowing himself to be mobbed and loving every second of being at the mercy of his creations as he greeted them. The pleasure and joy he felt over the bond with Prowl only enhanced the joy at their creations.

Beyond he could head Bluestreak giggling happily, and didn't doubt that the faint vibrations in the floor came from Idarassi.

"You are _staying_ this time," Overdrive rumbled with determination, though he looked to Prowl for confirmation. The sparkling visibly drooped when his carrier could only shake his helm.

"For a while." Jazz told him, nuzzling their youngest creation's helm to comfort just as he had when they were little before moving on to Sunstreaker and Sideswipe.

"Why do you keep going?" Sideswipe demanded, optics locking with his carrier's.

"Because I have to." Jazz told him, tone full of apology.

"Why? It upsets sire." Sunstreaker pointed out. The more quiet of the two, he was also highly observant.

"To keep you safe," Prowl answered for his mate, nodded to Bluestreak and Idarassi as the couple quietly slipped out. "It is for the same reason that I spend such long joors away as well."

Jazz hugged them all quickly before standing. "Someone get the set for Crossfire, and we can all play."

"Yeah!" Overdrive cheered and dashed off to get the set.

Prowl chuckled softly and drew Jazz to his pedes for a tender, chaste kiss. ~Once they've been bathed and sung into recharge, your spark is _mine_, all night long.~

Jazz's frame quivered in his mate's arms, desire flaring across the bond with amusement at the sounds of disgust Sideswipe was making at the display. ~All yours.~

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Jazz smiled as he herded their creations in the direction of their berths. While they were obedient, their creations were still not eager to go to recharge. The consistency was soothing to his spark.

There were other small things that helped as well. Like the fact that they were not yet old enough to resist him singing them to sleep at night.

~I'm not sure they'll ever be too old for that,~ Prowl chuckled softly, just as comforted as his mate by the return to their normal routine. ~Your voice enchanted a planet.~

~I wasn't that good.~ Jazz protested, flattered and his spark warmed as they got their sparklings tucked into their berths and Jazz polled them for requests. It was no great surprise that Overdrive wanted the same thing as always, or that Sideswipe wanted the latest hit and Sunstreaker wanted something _new_, whatever Jazz had been working on.

~Your sales say otherwise,~ Prowl countered pragmatically, though he was far more interested in listening to his mate sing to their creations.

Jazz chuckled out loud, moving between the berths as he started to sing, moving smoothly through the requests and finishing with a song of his choice, a soft lullaby that spoke of a creator's love for their creation as he joined his mate by the door looking over their recharging creations.

~I will never tire of this, of watching you with our promise to a better future,~ Prowl whispered across the bond as the last note faded. ~I never anticipated _enjoying_ being a creator, or of having a mate, until you proved me wrong.~

Jazz reached out, taking Prowl's hand raising it his lips. ~I am sorry that you were wrong about something, but I am glad that it was about this. My love.~

~As am I,~ Prowl purred, drawing Jazz into a long, tender kiss before tugging him towards their berth. The bond sang with Prowl's desire for a merge. Not a fast one for pleasure, but the long, slow kind to reconnect.

~Need your spark.~ Jazz pleaded across the bond, his desire matching that of his mate as he settled back on the berth, pulling Prowl with him. His mate didn't resist as they settled together, Jazz's warmth against Prowl's chest and Prowl's wings draped lightly forward to enhance the sense of Jazz being completely surrounded. The kiss was a languid, chaste one, full of love and desire but limited passion. It matched the pulse of their sparks as Prowl began to part his chest plates.

Jazz hummed in wonder at the sight he never tired of, the beauty of his mate's spark and the desire he felt for the mech it gave functioning to. The spark that he was unable to resist when it was so close to his, armor parting in answer. The first connection as searching tendrils found each other drew a moan from them both. Even when it wasn't for pleasure, it was impossible for this much-desired contact not to draw up memories of the intense bliss.

It was quickly forgotten at the connection and the need both mecha had for clear processors to absorb this proof that their mate was whole, healthy and sane. It was all they wanted in that moment; confirmation that all was well between them and within them.

Jazz's spark reached out to his other half, seeking the reassurance that he was loved and wanted, even beyond the reason and order that usually ruled his bonded's functioning. He was instantly wrapped in reassurances that bypassed all of Prowl's processors and upper functions. One spark to another, unquestioning of why the truth was needed, only that it was asked for and happily given.

Deep down, Prowl's spark began asserting its needs on the bond, demanding reassurance that Jazz was not just alive but safe, healthy and happy to be there. The spark joined with his own sang in response. Jazz's was safe, wrapped in his mate, whole and healthy. And the reassuring wave that he was with Prowl, and therefore happy. It was all Prowl needed to relax and surrender the tension and distress that had consumed him for three orns. He was home, his mate and family were safe and the future was a little less desperate.


	25. Shadows on Fire

**Into the Light 16: Shadows on Fire**  
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Jazz smiled as he listened to their three creations go on about what they had learned in school that orn. There were enough creations of various ages to make the running of a learning center on the base justified, and Prowl made sure they took full advantage of the resources available.

He was just getting ready to address a question that Sideswipe had asked about when a bright flare of _anger-frustration_ surged across the bond and he reached out to his mate in reaction. ~Love?~

The simple fact that Prowl didn't instantly reply was disturbing enough.

When the answer came, it didn't make it any better.

~Prime's deactivated.~

Shock flared through Jazz in response. ~How?~ Was his first question, followed almost instantly by, ~Do you need me to come?~

~Shuttle crash. Details are limited,~ Prowl responded, only giving enough attention to the bond as he had to. ~Stay with our creations. They need you more than I.~

"Carrier?" Sideswipe prompted at Jazz's dazed look and distressed field.

"Prowl's ... unhappy," Overdrive supplied, annoyed at his own lack of vocabulary to properly express the state of his carrier.

"Let's get you a snack." Jazz prompted, coming back to himself quickly and focusing on his creations. "Prowl is dealing with a difficult problem. It might be a while before he is home this orn."

Though the disappointment was clear in all three, they were far too accustomed to one or both of their creators needing to be gone and the basics of why to complain anymore.

While Jazz focused on his creations, he also devoted a portion of his attention to following the various news and data channels, trying to get a better feel for what was going on. It was chaotic right now, here and there would be bits that told the experienced young SpecOps agent in Jazz that it had been a Decepticon attack.

That was certainly going to make things interesting, but at least that was something that could be spun to their advantage. He could feel Prowl grow more and more stressed as information trickled in, but also more relaxed as the tactician gathered enough information to be sure of what had happened.

A flicker of darkness crossed the bond. It was a feeling Jazz knew, and knew how much his bonded dreaded. Prowl was contemplating doing something that would reshape the face of Cybertron and the war. Something that would likely end the war, but at a cost so high it might not recover in their lifetimes.

He sent love and assurance, the belief he held in his mate, across the bond as he got their creations started on the small amount of take home work they were given, using it to distract them from the echoes of distress.

Three joors later dinner involved Bluestreak and Idarassi as well as the younglings, but Prowl was still busy. It was still true when Jazz sung them into recharge, and well past midnight.

Jazz was just beginning to really struggle to remain awake when the apartment door slid open. He rose at the sound, on alert instantly and reaching across the bond as he reached for his mate before the door had finished closing.

~You're awake,~ Prowl sounded surprised. ~I'm just in for a few joors recharge before the final assault preparations begin and I'm on duty until it's over.~

~Then we need to get you some recharge.~ Jazz murmured, distressed as he pulled Prowl in for a kiss. ~Have you fueled?~

~Yes, someone shoved a cube in front of me a couple joors ago,~ Prowl relaxed into the kiss and drew his mate closer. ~I'm glad you aren't on a mission. It's going to get very scary out there soon.~

~As long as you will be safe.~ Jazz pleaded. He needed his bonded. Their creations needed their other creator.

~I should be,~ he promised with another kiss and drew Jazz towards the berth. ~Kaon, Simfur, Tarn and Vos are the targets. I will be safe here in Iacon.~

~What are you trying to accomplish?~ Jazz asked, joining his mate on the berth, frame pressed against Prowl's.

~Four fewer cities on Cybertron,~ he grumbled even as he snuggled and held Jazz close. ~A critical strike against the Decepticons. It's been in the works since I made Tactical TIC. This ... just makes the launch easier to justify.~

~Do you think this will end it?~ Jazz asked, nuzzling at his mate before kissing Prowl.

~I hope it will put Megatron in a processor set to negotiate for peace,~ Prowl sighed, relaxing into the contact and settling in to recharge. ~It would have been better to have a Prime I knew I could count on to accept the terms I negotiate, but I will deal with that if it becomes a problem.~

~Then we will pray it does not come to that.~ Jazz whispered, kissing Prowl again. ~Recharge love. I will be here.~

~That's all I ever wanted,~ Prowl murmured before shutting down.

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The new Prime sat silently in an office that he'd been told was his, staring at a cut glass goblet that was worth more than he should have earned in his entire functioning. It was filled with energon finer than anything he had conceived of and probably cost as much as the goblet if he had to guess. Both fit into the room flawlessly and made Optimus feel that much more out of place.

Yet his processor was focused on the recent actions of the mech that he was about to meet. As the new leader of the Autobots and the very new Prime, Prowl was his second in command until Optimus replaced him, if he did. The mech had a clear ability to outlive the Primes he served. A mech that had a guiding hand in the Autobot side of the war from before Sentinel Prime's deactivation, all the way through Zeta Prime's all-too-short existence, and now was poised to continue that effort under him.

It made the new Prime feel less than important, but that wasn't a new sensation. He had been sparked on the bottom. A dock worker who knew the plight of the less fortunate. He had seen the suffering that Megatron and his Decepticons had created in the name of supposedly doing away with suffering and inequality, and all of the injustice that came with it. He'd joined the Autobots because he saw the war causing more harm to the common mecha than it helped alleviate. He'd also seen the Autobots, the government, begin to really reach out to the underprivileged, even into the gutters, under Zeta. He had little doubt just from the mech's profile that it had been Prowl, not the Prime, who had spearheaded those efforts.

Despite all the good he knew Prowl had done, Optimus Prime was still not sure that he could condone the leveling of four cities in a single night. Except for lacking the systematic massacre afterwards, it resonated too closely to the destruction of Praxus by the Decepticons not to reek of revenge.

The door slid open and the new Prime looked up, taking in the poised black, white and red Praxian frame with golden highlights and ice blue optics as Prowl stepped inside. Despite the authority the mech radiated, it was the full wings reaching nearly to the floor that snagged Optimus' attention and held it until he was spoken to.

"Optimus Prime, I am Prowl, the Chief Tactical Officer. I understand that the Matrix transformation is a rather traumatic event that you were not prepared for," he began almost gently. Almost. "However, I do need to bring you up to speed on the war plans that are in motion."

"Yes, please." Optimus motioned to the chair across the table from his own. "I know there is much I need to know, beyond what the Matrix has told me. And much that I do not understand that what you know may make clearer."

"That is part of my function, Prime," Prowl sat down smoothly, every motion tightly controlled. "I would begin with the most critical plans for you to be aware of this orn."

The Prime nodded, permission for Prowl to continue. The motion still lacked the confidence behind it that experience would bring. If Optimus lived that long.

"The assaults on Kaon, Simfur, Tarn and Vos were part of a plan begun under Sentinel Prime to break the rebellion. It took this long to build up the resources required to accomplish the goal of leveling the cities," Prowl spoke smoothly and without a hint of emotion. Not grief at the loss of life. Not pride at such a long plan brought to completion. Not a single hint that he was reporting on anything of importance. "While it may seem that the assaults were launched in retaliation for the deactivation of Zeta Prime, they were to happen within the vorn unless the Decepticons surrendered.

"His deactivation does, however, bring into question how we will proceed," Prowl's ice blue optics met the Prime's warm blue ones without melting in the least. "Under the existing plan, I was to handle the negotiations with Megatron."

"And do you still wish to handle those?" Optimus asked, unconsciously leaning on the Matrix as he tried to get a better read on his current Second. It whispered of a mech that was as dangerous to him as he was to the Decepticons. A mech so focused on his goals that he easily lost track of the why in pursuit of victory. A mech that was more loyal to his family than his faction. It also whispered of a mech that could be fanatically loyal to the few he allowed close.

"Affirmative," Prowl gave a small nod. "I have spent many vorns studying Megatron and his goals. I am as well-prepared as any Autobot I know of to speak with him at the table."

"And what sort of negotiations are you planning to have with him?" Optimus asked, settling back in his chair and crossing his arms, optics calm as they looked into the cold blue ones of the Praxian.

"Fine details on this," Prowl handed a datapad over. "The most likely demands are for protections for the masses that I have not included. He may also desire more specific protections for his forces that do join him in the military. The primary area I expect contention with will be the penalties and pardons for various ranking Decepticons and the rank and file."

The Prime took the datapad, optics skimming over it critically before rising to meet Prowl's once more. "I want this war over. Preferably with the loss of as few sparks as possible. But I do understand that the longer it goes on, the more we _all_ lose. You may handle the negotiations. I will read over these more. There are some changes I wish to discuss with you later." He informed the Praxian.

Prowl inclined his helm once more. "I understand. I would prefer to contact Megatron to begin negotiations as soon as possible."

Optimus nodded again. "I will look over this and have the changes to discuss within the next orn. What else do I need to know immediately?"

"I understand that you were a dock worker before, and had yet to become a unit commander," Prowl paused for the confirmation. "You will need an advisor familiar with politics and the nobility to guide you until you are comfortable in your new role. While much of the political structure has been decimated and is ready for rebuilding into a more suitable form, enough of them remain with some power that you will need to learn how to communicate with and control them if you have any desire to be more than the figurehead of the last two Primes."

"And who would you recommend as such as an adviser?" Optimus asked, curious.

"My first recommendation is to trust no one mecha. It would make you far too vulnerable to their manipulations," Prowl said simply. "A combination of Lord Naredba of Praxus, Lord Mirage of Crystal City and Jazz would give you reasonable odds of shifting the truth out of their versions."

Optimus considered the recommendations for a while before posing another question. "Lord Naredba and Lord Mirage I can understand. But why do you suggest your bondmate?"

"He has transitioned through most strata of society in his functioning and his fame as a performer gave him access that few outsiders receive," Prowl answered evenly. "It gives him a perspective that neither you nor the lords possess. His gift for socializing borders on that of a grifter and he has no compunctions about using it for the good of those he is loyal to."

"And he is loyal to you." Optimus observed, his tone neutral.

"True," Prowl acquiesced the truth. "He is also loyal enough to his Prime to counsel me away from some of my more drastic plans. He _trusts_ the Matrix in a way I can not."

That was an interesting revelation, one that Optimus quickly filed away. "I would like to meet your mate, and the lords. I would also guess that you already have ideas for restructuring the social system?"

Another datapad was quickly handed over. "It is imperative if we wish the war not to be repeated. The reasons for the rebellion were justified. If the government had listened instead of repressing, we would not be here now."

"There were many wrongs committed that led us to where we are now." Optimus murmured, a shiver running through his frame and his optics dimming as the Matrix flared to life within him, showing him things that in truth he would rather not know or see, but were vital to who he was now.

"It is imperative that we learn from them, so they are not repeated," Prowl quietly became more intense, less neutral. "The gutters can not be permitted to exist, ever again. Have you ever been there?"

"No." Optimus admitted. But there was a haunted light in his optics that suggested that he knew what had been there, despite never having walked them himself.

"But you _know_," Prowl regarded his new Prime carefully even as he knew his own intensity was showing. "That is enough. The gutters, the mines, the gladiatorial pits, the places where mecha were sent to be forgotten, or sparked to be worked to deactivation without a chance for more. Those were Megatron's first recruits. Without them, the rebellion would never have begun. Whatever form the new Cybertron takes, if it does not prevent those conditions we will face another revolt just as ugly as this one."

"Worse, for not having learned the lesson the first time." Optimus countered. "Yes, such conditions must be prevented as much as possible."

Prowl inclined his helm slightly. "The more you can approve or challenge my plan for the new government before I speak with Megatron, the more of his questions I will be able to answer."

"And how do you plan to control Megatron and his supporters? The remaining Seekers are angry, and there are mecha like Shockwave and Soundwave to consider." Optimus pointed out.

"Section 3 of the treaty," Prowl told him smoothly. "It will be in much the same way Nova Prime did. They will have an outlet in expanding and searching for resources. Those that refuse to cooperate will be wiped or executed as the traitors they insist on being."

"And you believe that you can still control them even off planet?" Optimus asked, making a special note to look over that section. There were qualifications that he was going to have to add if they did not already exist about respecting the rights of other sentient creatures they might encounter.

"With the proper supervision and structure, yes," Prowl inclined his helm. "It was done for generations before Sentinel Prime cut funding and pulled the army back. It can be done again."

Optimus nodded in acceptance, though his optics remained focused on Prowl, serious and considering. Finally he spoke. "You mentioned extreme plans. I need officers I can trust."

There was a slight shift in the large mech, another force starting to influence the young one sitting there. "Especially more so in times like these. Can I trust you?"

The Praxian seemed to expect that question, or at least wasn't surprised by it. His optics leveled on the young Prime with something akin to the calmness of one utterly dedicated to his cause. "I am as trustworthy as you are." He motioned to the two datapads. "All I intend is laid out for you."

"And how do you know that I am trustworthy?" There was a note of amusement among the serious tone there, the hint of a smile rising to his optics despite the battle mask that covered his face all the time now.

That amusement was not shared by the Praxian facing him. If anything, it made Prowl less friendly towards this Prime. "I do not, yet," came the simple answer. "Like all mecha, you will prove yourself by your actions."

One hand reached forward, Optimus' fingers tapping lightly on the table. "The Matrix is proposing a solution. One that I am rather inclined to take. I am asking you to trust me. You are asking me to trust you."

He motioned to the datapads. "Between us lies what might be the best and fastest solution to rebuilding our world. But to make it work we have to be able to work together. The Matrix is proposing a merge."

"It is neither the best nor the fastest solution. It is merely the one most likely to past political muster," Prowl countered and delayed calmly even as he panicked completely inside. ~Love, get the family and get ready to put your Ops training to the test. We may not be welcome here for long.~

Surprise rippled back across the bond, along with the feeling of Jazz's attention splitting to their creations. ~Love?~ Jazz asked, deeply concerned.

~Prime is demanding a spark merge. You know as well as I how close to treason I've come, and how willing I am to cross that line,~ Prowl tried not to tremble inside, to hold himself together, but it was failing fast in the face of losing the one thing he was willing to do anything to protect. On the outside, he was still perfectly composed.

~We will be ready love, but have faith.~ Jazz said, calm and composed. ~The others are ready, and so are our creations, to move on your word.~ Love, affection, and faith flowed across the connection. ~All will be well love.~ Jazz whispered, sure in his mate and sure in this fact.

Quiet thanks flowed in return, a boost and balm that Prowl needed badly.

Optimus had waited through the exchange quietly, something in silence hinting that he knew what was going on and was waiting for Prowl to finish before he spoke again. "A plan that will not pass political and social approval will simply start the cycle over once more. If this does than it is still the fastest and most efficient one that will work on all fronts."

He paused. "And your answer?"

Ice blue optics narrowed as the most advanced tactical computer in existence ran through every option to avoid this. It always came back to the same fact. If he refused it would end his career and likely his life. If he consented, he _might_ survive to finish what he began. Either way, he was not foolish enough to entertain the idea that he could come out the victor in a contest between a Prime's spark and his own.

Hatred for this mech, this new Prime, flared bright and hot before being subdued. There was no need to lead with that emotion. Cold and calculated was more useful, more productive.

A tiny part of his processors reminded him that while he was vulnerable in this, so was the Prime.

"I will do as ordered." It was as close as Prowl could come. He couldn't bring himself to say yes. He didn't dare say no.

Optimus nodded, firing a quick message off to Ratchet to inform the medic of what he was doing in case something went wrong, and slid his chair back from the table in invitation.

Prowl's grace was absent as he stood. The stiffness in his frame was genuine, a display of distaste that he was no longer trying to hide. It was all about to be laid bare, there was no reason for pretenses any more. Despite the emotions roiling in his processor, his spark was calm and ready as he straddled the much larger mech's lap. At this range it was impossible to miss the resentment in Prowl's field, or the fierce determination to do what he had to. Whatever he had to.

The field that touched his own was an odd mix of calm confidence and the nervousness born of attempting something still rather new and strange, the mix of the mech that held the Matrix now and the simple dock worker he had been before.

As soon as they were both settled Optimus took the lead, reaching out the steady the mech in his lap with strong hands as his chest plates and armor parted, bathing the room with a brilliant rainbow light.

He felt Prowl recoil from it, yet not for any reason the Praxian would, or even could, admit to. Not for fear of his life, or his secrets, or even his family. His armor parted in response and his sparked hummed eagerly despite the outright rebellion in his processors. His spark already knew what Prowl could not accept.

This spark was _special_.

The Prime was not just a political post. Not just a title. It was something very real and it changed the basic nature of the spark that was consumed to create a Prime from a Cybertronian.

Near white tendrils reached out eagerly from Prowl's spark for the much larger one so close by.

The initial touch of the large, bright spark was warm and welcoming, a reflection of the spark it had consumed. Underneath it was a steel will and a sense of fairness and justice that was slowly melding with the warmth to create a new being, a new leader that the Matrix intended to use to raise Cybertron from the darkness into which it had fallen.

A revelation. The Matrix served the Prime, but the Prime was just as much a servant of the Matrix.

Against that warmth came the cool, calm order that was Prowl's core nature even before he'd received the upgrades that tempered his emotional protocols' ability to express themselves. In that moment spark and processors were at striking odds. One eagerly embraced the merge. The other was somewhere between repulsed and angry.

Against the potency that was a Prime's spark Prowl quickly unraveled. His every truth laid bare. A willingness to kill the Prime if that would serve Cybertron best. An unshakable belief and faith in his own ability to make that choice. Plans that had never seen the light because no matter how much they would help Cybertron, they would never be accepted.

Plans that had been implemented quietly, plans to control the population by tainting the energon given away so only those who could afford to buy energon could kindle. Plans, orders, to stop all production of mecha with reproductive systems. If it was built, it couldn't create without the money to upgrade. Laws and orders passed with little oversight to strip the ability to mass order mecha from corporations and even the government.

Zeta Prime had been weak and rightfully afraid of this mech, so he left Prowl to do largely as he pleased. Only Jazz tempered his mate's path, and only when he knew what it was.

There was a deep ache there, a knowledge that Prowl _needed_ a confidant to keep him from straying too far from what was right. Idarassi filled the role as much as he could, but Prowl needed his mate.

The revelations were met with a mixture of understanding, rejection, the gentle and passionate core nature of the mech viewing them, and the cool consideration of the Matrix as they were weighed against what was _needed_ to return things to right.

At some point in the process Prowl's processors kicked into gear, shifting from trying to stop the merge to defending his position and actions. He'd done everything for the good of the war effort, he'd made choices no one else was willing to and he lived with it, knowing every designation of every mecha he had a hand in the end of. It ate at him, to order so many deaths, especially those done quietly, but he knew no one else would do it. No one else would accept the scope of devastation that was required for Cybertron to flourish once more.

It needed so much of its population removed, and Prowl was not in a position to create the colonies, so he organized the culling. It focused on Decepticons, but it extended to everyone that did not serve a productive function. Cybertron could not support more than a fifth of its pre-war population, so an eighth of that population was what Prowl worked towards creating.

The same mix of rejection and acceptance met this revelation, along with the understanding that soon Prowl and the new Prime were going to be having a _talk_ about his plans and actions. But that was not something to happen in the moment.

Anger rose at that, at this invasion of Prowl's _self_ on the pretense of creating trust only to push such things to the side. Yet in almost the same thought the order was accepted, tiny flickers of Prowl's plan to protect his family from Optimus and the expected orders over Prowl's meticulously planned treason swirled in the background, only to disappear under more important demands.

Prowl found nothing to trust in the merge, only things to fear.

There was a gentle nudge at the resentment and distrust, a curiosity at how and why Prowl could not trust the spark touching his and the power behind it. What flickered back was a confusing jumble that wasn't even thought. It was barely organized enough to be called an emotion. It was there though, strong and deep seated. A disturbing maelstrom that growled of Primes that allowed the war to begin. Of a society, a military, that the Primes supported that believed in intimacy as a right the weaker were not allowed to protest. Memories of the culture shock Prowl had experienced on enlisting. Rage at the rulers of Praxus for standing by former Primes when culturally, politically, the city belonged with the revolt. Hatred so intense at Megatron because Prowl _wanted_ to side with him, but could not after what happened to Praxus, to Prowl's family.

Centered in it all was a hatred of self and what he had become to survive without going completely insane. Then deeper, the fear of what he had become, even if only for a few orns, when he though his mate had been deactivated. No matter how hard Prowl shied away from that truth, it was what he clawed through every orn for no other reason that for his mate's approval.

Twined in it was a moment of comprehension for Optimus. Intimacy, pleasure, the right to touch ... they were things that Prowl still held very dear and guarded aggressively. If the way his superiors had used his frame when he was younger nearly broke him, to be ordered to surrender his spark was, literally, incomprehensible to him. Even this deep in a merge Prowl could not accept that it was happening.

Gentle acceptance, deep apology, and the strong waves of soothing and ease flowed across the connection, along with the promise that _this_ would never be asked of Prowl again. All Optimus asked in return was truth and honesty, even if Prowl disagreed with him.

Slowly Prowl's spark was released, setting him down gently to avoid the any backlash from the stronger half of the merge withdrawing. It left the Praxian trembling on his Prime's lap, dazed and more than slightly disturbed. He'd never felt a spark touch his other than his mate's, and he wasn't entirely sure he'd be able to touch even Jazz that way for some time after this. The sense of _violation_ made the physical rape he'd handled vorns ago seem like nothing. He wanted to hate this mech for it, but his tactical computer refused to allow that to set in. He understood why, understood the tactical value, even at this price.

Strong hands held Prowl steady until the Praxian had his balance back before releasing him.

"Go to your mate and your family." Optimus ordered, though the large mech's tone was laden with deep concern for the mech he was addressing, and tempered the directness of the instructions. "Settle them, and yourself. None of you have anything to fear from me. Devotion like yours is something I fear our world needs more of."

"Yes sir," Prowl responded on reflex, the words and intentions still sinking in as he reached out for his mate. "Thank you," he added softly before turning to leave, his processors and spark still churning at the last few breems.

~Love?~ Jazz answered instantly, on edge and waiting for instruction, concerned with how off balance he could feel his mate was.

~We are ... safe,~ Prowl answered as the door closed behind him and he did his best to look like the command officer he was as he walked to his quarters. ~I do not like him, but he is an ... honorable mecha. He valued the reason for my treasonous plans more than the danger they represent.~ He didn't even try to keep his confusion from his mate. ~Please, try to settle everyone. I will be there shortly.~

~The fact that you are safe and returning to us without the need for flight has everyone calm.~ Jazz answered, warm love and his the sense of him calming flowing across the bond. ~We will be here when you arrive.~

The thanks and love that replied was wordless but deep and strong. Prowl left the bond open but didn't try to talk for the rest of his walk. He wasn't surprised at the scene when he entered his quarters. Bluestreak was all but welded to his bonded and protected inside Idarassi's powerful coils. Smokescreen was latched onto Overdrive, standing in for the sparkling's carrier. His bonded was across the room, Sunstreaker practically in his arms for all that he was getting too large to be held and Sideswipe pressed again his side, both of the twins still visibly upset but calming some at the sight of the sire and the fact that Jazz relaxed as Prowl stepped in the door.

"My apologies for the alarm," Prowl said quietly as he moved to gather Overdrive from his cousin. "I did not know how this Prime would take what he was about to learn."

"Hey, better ready than caught out," Smokescreen patted Prowl's shoulder, their fields brushing and reassuring. "Love to stay and family bond, but I have a game to get back to."

Prowl nodded with a low chuckle for his cousin's favored hobby. "Do well."

"I always do," he grinned back before slipping out.

"Is it really okay?" Bluestreak's babbling turned verbal and focused on his brother. "We aren't in danger? We don't need to run again?"

"We are safe from the Autobots," Prowl reassured him as he came close to allow his field to do much of the talking. "I am sorry I disturbed you both so badly."

"As Smokey said, it is better to be prepared," Idarassi said firmly. "I would much rather face this than be surprised by security at our door."

"Thank you, Idarassi," Prowl canted his wings. "Why don't you take Bluestreak back to your quarters and settle down?"

"Of course," Idarassi patted Prowl's shoulder before scooping an unresisting Bluestreak onto his back and sliding out.

Jazz moved closer as the door closed, fields reaching out and blending all around to share the love and assurance that all was well.

"What happened?" Sideswipe demanded, looking at his creators in an effort to understand what all the panic and fuss had been about, especially now that it seemed it had all been for nothing.

"The new Prime was in a hurry to learn about me and demanded a spark merge. If he did not like what he saw, he could have labeled me a traitor," Prowl glossed over just how bad that could really be for his family. "Treason is a very serious crime, and if the Prime accused me there would be no trial."

"What would have happened?" Sideswipe demanded, clinging to Jazz at the sudden tension in his carrier.

"Jazz and I would be executed and the three of you given to someone not in the family to raise," Prowl knelt to be on optic level with his creation. "It is not going to happen under this Prime."

Fear and horror surged, strong despite how weak the creator bonds were, and had Jazz on the ground comforting their creations in an instant. Reminding them that Prowl had promised it was not going to happen and that they were all together and safe.

~Might have to let them recharge with us tonight, at this rate love.~ He said softly, speaking of something that had not happened since all three had been young sparklings.

~I'm not sure it would be a bad thing for any of us,~ he admitted softly. "Who wants energon treats in the pool?" he tried for a distraction that was usually welcomed by them all.

The suggestion was greeted without its normal amount of enthusiasm, but it did get all three creations moving in the direction of the berthroom, stopping only to shed the supplies that their creator had packed them with in case they needed to flee.

~I'm sorry for all the trouble,~ Prowl slid his arms around his mate from behind and kissed his neck. ~I never anticipated him asking for _that_.~

~This one is different.~ Jazz concluded, leaning back into the comfort of his mate's arms and frame as he watched their creations coordinated efforts to retrieve the energon goodies from the high shelf where Jazz kept them stashed.

~We're going to have to lock them up soon,~ Prowl chuckled, his spark warming at the sight of their creations and the feel of his mate. ~They're entirely too good for our good,~ he murmured as he nudged Jazz towards the warming oil. "Come. Let's enjoy the time we have. I'm going to be very busy soon."

Cheered by actually having the energon goodies in hand and the promise of family time in the oil pool, a treat they were not allowed often, had all three creations scrambling for their creator's berthroom.

Jazz had to smile as he watched them giggle and bounce along, slightly envious of innocent youngling's abilities to rebound from stress and worry. ~We are, or I am going to have to find a better hiding place. And they are.~

He paused, turning in his mate's arms and taking advantage of the moment alone to kiss Prowl, the expression of love deep and full of possessive passion. Prowl trembled in the contact, a soft moan escaping him. Yet in the same moment where his frame was heating and eager, the bond spoke of distress and reluctance far greater than anything Jazz had felt in the past. Times he knew this feeling from, when they had time together after Prowl had been forced to allow others the use of his frame for their pleasure. Worse even that the times when Prowl had been forced to overload as well.

Understanding rose in Jazz, and he held his mate all the tighter. ~Take my spark later.~ He whispered across the bond, offering his mate the control and connection Prowl had always needed to reground himself.

Prowl trembled, reluctant even as he knew he needed to move forward and what his mate was offering was the fastest way. ~When they're recharging,~ he committed himself to the merge with a kiss that was as passionate as it was forced on Prowl's side.

"Ewww, come on, don't you two _ever_ quit?" Sideswipe made a face when he reached the berthroom door and glanced back at his creators.

"No." Jazz smiled lazily at his creation and holding Prowl's hand tightly as they joined their creations. ~When they are recharging love, I am yours.~

~As I am yours,~ Prowl purred across the bond before they separated slightly to sink into the hot oil. "The orn we quit will be the orn to worry," Prowl added smoothly with a hint of teasing behind the serious answer. "That means we're either too injured, or we no longer love each other." ~Never going to happen.~

The disbelief in the three sets of optics that looked at them had Jazz laughing as he pulled Sunstreaker close, nuzzling his oldest creation and taking the box of sweets from him and handing one to each sparkling.

Then he selected one he knew would please Prowl and leaned in close as he offered it to his mate. "Since I will never leave you, no."

Prowl accepted the treat, sharp and acidic with a fine coating of sweet gold. His glossa slipped out to curl around Jazz's fingers, licking them clean.

Jazz kissed him again before snuggling in close to his mate's side, content. He was just as content, if not more so, three joors later and their creations were deep in recharge on their berth. No one questioned it, and all five knew it was more for the adults than their creations. It didn't matter. The mingling of the five fields brought a comfort they all welcomed.

He glanced over when he felt Prowl rouse from the berth and caught his lover's optics shining softly in the darkness.

~Join me,~ Prowl whispered across the bond.

It was the work of a moment for Jazz to extract himself from the tangle of frames and join his love, taking Prowl's hand in his own. ~Always and anywhere.~ He promised quietly in return, quiet across the bond even if there was no way they would wake their creations.

They slid into the oil they'd vacated less than a joor before with a soft sound of pleasure that was quickly swallowed by the kiss Prowl claimed. It still wasn't quiet a normal kiss, but it was better, more relaxed, more willing.

~My love. My life.~ Jazz murmured across the bond, leaning into his mate's touch and the kiss, gentle and willing. He slid into Prowl's lap, easily settling with his knees against his lover's hips.

~My Jazz,~ Prowl shivered, struggling with the command to open his chest plates. ~How ... can you still want this?~

~Why were you still willing to accept me?~ Jazz asked. ~I love you, no matter what. I am yours. My sparks is yours, and it will never belong to anyone else.~

~Because I love you. Because you balance me. Because I _need_ you,~ Prowl trembled, pressing into the kiss. ~Show me. Your spark. I want to see it.~

Jazz pulled away slightly, chest plates parting to give his love and unobstructed view of the blazing gold tinted blue light. ~All yours.~

~Do you remember our first merge?~ Prowl whispered across the bond as his optics took in the beautiful light dedicated to him. ~I was terrified you'd reject me after seeing me through my spark.~ Feather-light fingers caressed Jazz's spark casing. ~How can a tactical merge with the Prime leave me feeling even more dirty than when my frame was taken?~

Gentle hands ran along Prowl's wings, soothing and gentle. The touch was welcomed for the care and affection it represented far more than the soft pleasure it brought. ~Because you felt you needed to hide.~ Jazz suggested, a shudder running through his frame at the touch his spark casing, the crystal spiraling open in offering as he did nothing to try and stop it. Tendrils reached out to dance along Prowl's fingertips, drawing a muffled moan from him.

One hand moved to stroke lightly over Prowl's chest. ~You don't need to hide from me love. Please.~

A shiver passed through Prowl's frame, but his chest plates unlocked and spread at his mate's request without conscious thought. In the end, Prowl's spark knew what it wanted, and what would sooth the troubled processors it supported.

~I ... I'm sorry I continue to doubt,~ Prowl whispered painfully, the truth of the statement echoing brightly between them. He didn't want to doubt. It wasn't logical. He'd never had reason to do so. Yet that same part of him that was shocked when his mate accepted him being with others refused to let the doubts go no matter how much the rest of him wanted to.

Jazz arched his frame so that he could kiss his mate, love and devotions surging across the bond. The only way he would ever leave Prowl was if Prowl told him to, stopped loving him and wanting him and wanted him gone.

But even parted he knew a truth deep in his spark. ~No matter what,~ he promised Prowl, ~I will never stop loving you.~

~I will never want you gone,~ Prowl swore in reply, drawing their chests together as they continued to kiss. ~You are my balance, what keeps me from becoming a monster.~

~You are not a monster.~ Jazz told him, moaning softly as his spark reached for its other half, for the love and assurance they both needed. He caught himself, just barely, working to leave things in Prowl's control. ~Take me, please.~

~Because of you,~ Prowl moaned and shuddered as his mate's love flooded into him along with the support, faith and devotion that Prowl so desperately needed. Instinct drew the merge deeper and need opened up the memories of the violation that had so shaken Prowl's sense of security. Yet even colored by Prowl's perspective and the fear that lead up to it, Jazz felt the care and gentleness of the new Prime's spark. He felt Prowl's recognition of it too, despite his objection to the contact. The more the memory unfolded, the clearer it became just how divided Prowl was about this Prime and what had happened.

It had been a clean informational merge, the pleasure almost completely absent. The new Prime was a good mecha, Prowl had no question of it. He questioned Optimus' ability to lead a war successfully. He questioned Optimus' willingness to make the terrible choices Prowl had under Zeta that would be needed for Cybertron to recover and flourish once more. He doubted Optimus' willingness to allow Prowl to continue the plan that had come this close to winning the war. He doubted that Optimus was what they needed _now_. In Prowl's opinion, the new Prime was suitable for rebuilding, not war.

Jazz sorted through the memories, reading Prowl's impression of the mech that was his new Prime, and starting to form his own. Slowly his spark wrapped around Prowl's, nuzzling it with love, affection, and reassurance. ~He wants to _talk_, love. There is hope. Listen to what he has to say, and find out what he wants before you judge him too quickly.~

Deeper still, Jazz feeling and soothing his mate's fear of what could have been, and what had not, thank Primus, come to pass. ~If nothing else he has forgiven us your plans. That alone should earn him a chance.~

~A chance, yes,~ Prowl agreed, trembling as he began to accept that they really were safe enough and the even more important truth that his mate was neither angry nor upset about the merge and that another mecha had touched Prowl's spark. ~I don't want to be at odds with a good mech. I don't want to choose between you and the Prime.~

~Choose?~ Jazz repeated, poking at that as he once more sought to assure his mate that all was well.

Instead of words Jazz was guided to a stark truth that Prowl had long kept from his mate's casual gaze. He'd shared it once, when he was feeling out the then-new Zeta Prime. It was the core of his fears when faced with a merge with the now-new Optimus Prime. The truth that if a new Prime couldn't be made to see reason and the needs of the war and the future stability of Cybertron, that Prowl would commit the ultimate act of treason and ensure that Prime did not survive the end of the vorn. He would do it to protect his mate and family.

There was a moment as Jazz's spark trembled at the thought of being the cause of end of a Prime. Then it steadied, wrapping once more around his mate with the promise that he would follow Prowl anywhere, even into that.

~Never want you to,~ Prowl whispered. ~Never want to make that choice.~

He was simply willing to, with the end already determined if he judged a Prime as a danger to his family and by extension to the world they had to live on.

~Between the two of us~ Jazz said commented slowly, softly, as he noticed the part his mate intended him to play with the new Prime. ~I think it will not come to that.~

There was a bit of amusement, and warmth at his mate's faith in him.

~I told him the truth. You have a perspective and access that few alive do,~ Prowl nuzzled him, welcoming the lighter subject. ~I'm not sure if he'll accept the suggestion, or what he thinks of having two of the three SpecOps agents.~

Prowl himself made no secret that he didn't like that last aspect, but it didn't overcome the other factors Jazz and Mirage had going for them.

~It just means that he will have two advisers who know too much, or who can find out what they want to know even if they are not supposed to.~ Jazz replied, light and humorous even if it was also the truth.

~Including one who will keep _me_ informed of all his questions and progress,~ Prowl purred softly, his intention turning softly amorous.

~But of course.~ Jazz purred in return, a playful edge in the reply. ~As if I would do anything less for you.~ He mock pouted.

Prowl simply smiled and kissed his mate, warmth and affection swirling between them as their sparks slid deeper, abandoning the level where verbal communication was possible and into that deep merge that was pure pleasure in its complete unity of bonded sparks.

SxSxSxSxSxSxSxSx S===================S SxSxSxSxSxSxSxS

Jazz was relaxed, moving through his late-morning cleaning of his family quarters after Prowl had gone to work and the triad to school. Any morning where Whiplash didn't comm him was a good morning. Just as he was finishing up and ready to grab some energon his comm pinged for attention.

He checked the ID tag, resigning himself to another mission, and was surprised to see that sender was not Whiplash, but the new Prime.

::Prime.:: He opened the line, instantly formal. ::Is there something I may help you with?::

::I'd like to speak with you, if you have some time,:: Optimus rumbled casually. ::I'm sure you are aware of how my meeting with your mate went yesterday.::

::of course. Where would you like to meet?:: Jazz asked, setting down the things he had been straightening up and checking his appearance before heading for the door. He wasn't performance-worthy, and not what he'd consider ready to meet with _the Prime_, but he also remembered Prowl's impressions of the former dock worker and then rookie grunt. Clean and presentable in public would likely make the new Prime more at ease than the look Jazz sported for nobility.

::The living room of my quarters,:: came the reply. ::It's a more comfortable place to talk over energon than my office.::

::On my way.:: Jazz answered promptly as he nudged his mate across the bond.

~Prime asked for you,~ Prowl guessed, though it wasn't a guess so much as a statement based on highly detailed calculations.

~He did. On my way to meet him in his quarters. Anything you want me to try and accomplish?~ Jazz asked as he walked along, as calm on the inside as he appeared outwardly.

~Make friends?~ Prowl suggested, only a touch hesitantly. ~It would be good if he thought one of us liked him, and he knows I don't.~

~That's what I do best love.~ Jazz reminded him.

A flicker of amusement and disagreement came from Prowl. ~I believe what you do best is love me,~ affection twined with every glyph of the thought.

~Loving you is what I _live_ to do.~ Jazz responded, ~the best that I can. I will make friends with our Prime, my love. Do not worry.~

~I trust you,~ Prowl replied warmly, the full impact and importance of the simple words clear in the bond and Jazz's deep knowledge of his mate. ~I will be only a thought away if you have questions for me,~ he promised before back away to focus on his own duties until he mate needed him.

Comforted and confident, Jazz stopped outside the door of the Prime's quarters, pinging for permission to enter. The door slid open, allowing Jazz his first look at the Prime's entry room. Even beyond the size he expected and the luxury he expected from Zeta's tastes, what struck Jazz the most was that the space didn't _feel_ of the new Prime yet.

"Please come in," Optimus Prime spoke. "The living room is this way." He motioned to one of the two doors that lead to the interior of the apartment.

"Sure thing." Jazz said as he strode in, vorns of experience observing and playing to other mechs even before his SpecOps training kicking in as he made his posture confident but non aggressive and followed the motion of the Prime.

The formal space definitely lacked personal touches; the few that might be were no doubt leftovers from Zeta. Things that hadn't been moved out or things that the new Prime thought he might like, or maybe just left there to make it seem less empty. They simply didn't seem like anything _this_ mech would choose. The new Prime was apparently as uncomfortable as a stranger in his own quarters.

Walking into the living room was slightly more revealing. This space had seen some effort by the new resident to make it comfortable for him, and that comfort was fairly plain but thick with padding. Hints of an aesthetic developed in an even lower class than Jazz had grown up with were about in the colors and the artwork from Tyger Pax.

"Please make yourself comfortable," Optimus Prime motioned to the collection of seating that was both intimate and designed for a variety of frames. Without a trace of concern the large mech turned his back on Jazz to pour two cubes of fine high grade.

That was something that was going to have to be addressed, Jazz making a note to bring it to his mate's attention as soon as they talked the next time as he settled himself in one of the offered seats, still observing the movements and posture of the new Prime. He saw much of what his mate had. The mech was adapting, but he still wasn't comfortable in his own frame and was definitely not comfortable in command.

As Optimus turned around to bring the two cubes over and handed one to Jazz, the smaller mech also noted that they were drinking from _cubes_, not the fine cut and blown glassware that was clearly visible with the high grade carafe. It all backed up what Prowl's file said of the mech. A sparked dock worker that entered the army when the warehouse he worked at was blown up in a Decepticon raid. Heavily rebuilt to save him and then make him suitable for front line work, he had no political or command experience to speak of and hadn't displayed any ambition for power or authority.

"Tell me about Prowl," Optimus asked simply as he settled in a chair designed to take his heavy frame.

Jazz chuckled softly, taking a sip of the highgrade before he answered and deciding to test the new Prime a little. "That is a very complex request. Where should I start?"

Optimus hummed thoughtfully. "How did you meet?"

"At a trade show in Iacon." Jazz said, relaxing as he allowed his processor to return to a happy time. "It was my first time out and about to work on my own, and he approached me because I was a new face. That led to lunch, and then an evening together."

An evening that had been quite a revelation for both of them, and the foundation of the trust that their entire relationship had been built on.

"An evening that did not end up in the berth," Optimus said, his tone speaking of a guess rather than knowledge gleaned from Prowl.

"No." Jazz agreed. "Talking and learning of the other mecha. We spent the rest of the trade show together, and started to coordinate our schedules are much as possible after that."

"What led you to want to be more than friends?" Optimus asked, genuinely curious.

Jazz was quite for a while, trying to find an answer that an outsider could understand. Trying to find the tipping point when he had realized that he didn't want to let Prowl go. That the Praxian was the one thing he wanted in his functioning, at all cost.

"Acceptance." He finally concluded. "Acceptance of each other, how Primus had made us."

Optimus cocked his helm slightly. "You do not seem the type that lacked options, as social as you are. He seems an unlikely choice as different as you are."

"Balance." Jazz offered, the reason that the difference worked. After a moment of consideration he offered another truth. "Prowl was the first mech I met who wanted to know _Jazz_, and not just use me for my social or business contacts."

The Prime nodded. "Why did you bond when you did?"

"I made a mistake." Jazz admitted, a shudder he couldn't completely hide running through him at that memory. At what he had done to the mech he loved. At the pain he had caused Prowl, and how he had driven his mate into being the thing that Prowl feared most. The bond flared further open as Prowl extended his love and acceptance, and a reminder that it was Whiplash and not Jazz that had betrayed their trust. Jazz rested in that acceptance before apologizing again, still unable to completely forgive himself for what he had put Prowl through before focusing on the Prime once more.

"I operated as an agent for the Autobots while I was still performing. I was caught out, and the fastest way to make me disappear was for Jazz to 'die." His voice softened, "I...trusted someone I should not, and Prowl was allowed to think I was deactivated. It was...not a good thing. We bonded so he would never have to hurt like that again."

Again the Prime hummed thoughtfully. "Yet you've never regretted it, even when the public believed Prowl had bonded with a new lover, something that I understand did hurt his career. Did you want to be in SpecOps?"

"We knew the truth, and that was enough. It was harder on the triad than it was on us, until the truth came out." Jazz admitted. "And no, I never did. It was simply the price."

"Prowl must have been very confident that he could end the war in a century to kindle when you did," Optimus nudged at that, wanting to get a feel for how Jazz felt about the reason for their creations.

"He is." Jazz answered, a firm note creeping into his voice. "They will not have to fight in this war if we have anything to say about it."

"Something that I currently have to decide," Optimus said, curious at how Jazz, and by extent his bonded, would respond. "Prowl is a gifted tactician and dedicated to ending the war. I have concerns about his morals, however. His tactics are brutal and excessively destructive now that I have seen their full extent."

"They can be." Jazz agreed, helm raising to look the Prime squarely in the optics. He felt the warm blue penetrate him to his core in a way not even Prowl at his most calculating could. "But we have seen this war play out from the beginning. The longer it goes on, the more mecha suffer and hurt, and the further the destruction spreads. The sooner we can _end_ it, the sooner we can start to rebuild a society where no one has to hurt or suffer needlessly."

"Even though his plans, ones he's put in action, include killing civilians and denying millions the ability to kindle?" Prime met his gaze, his warm blue optics sharp.

Jazz was silent as struggled for an answer, caught between his Prime, his own personal feelings, and the deep drive in him to support his mate no matter the cost to himself or anyone else.

~Be honest with him,~ Prowl nudged his love. ~You are my balance, my morals. You do not have to agree with all I do. It's good that sometimes you do not, strongly.~

A wave of love flared across the bond as Jazz found his voice once more. "We have talked, and I softened them as best as we could. He had no other options. If you are willing to give him the chance to create more options, he can. And the kindling is simply delaying the upgrades. It is reversible, once we are able to support a large number of mecha again. But the greater the damage, the longer it will take to rebuild to the point that we can start really expanding the numbers again."

Optimus nodded. As much as he disagreed with many of Prowl's tactics and choices, he agreed just as strongly with the foundation intentions of them and accepted that he did not know as much as Prowl did about all the details that went into Prowl's choices. "What would you like me to know about Prowl?"

"He is my bondmate, the other half of my spark." Jazz said with a shrug, as though that were the most logical and sensible thing in the world, and the answer to any question. "Despite what others say, and what your own optics may tell you, there is a spark under the cold exterior he presents to the world."

Optimus smiled behind his mask, but the expression carried to his optics. "I know. As much as I regret distressing him so much, I now _know_ he has a good spark."

Jazz nodded, quietly relieved that the Prime was willing to say that. "Have no doubt- he loves me, our creations, his brother, Ida and his cousin. He is the head of the family, and he takes that seriously. He will do whatever it takes to keep us safe. That was what drove him to join the military in the first place."

"I noticed," Optimus acknowledged. "He is not happy with his function, yet he is not unhappy either. If I had not felt it myself so clearly I would not have believed such a dichotomy possible. Yet it is clear in him, and it causes him no issues. Your mate is a most unusual mecha. Has he spoken to you about what he desires to become after the war?"

"A trader, like he was before. We both wish to return to our former functions, if we can." Jazz said, a small smile crossing his lips for a brief moment, brought on by fond memories.

Optimus chuckled warmly. "If he puts half the effort into rebuilding the family business as he did into becoming the CTO and Autobot SIC, he will do very well. I remember hearing you in concert once," he admitted softly. "It was a terrible orn when we heard you'd deactivated. It will be a great orn when all you do on tour is sing."

"Thank you." Jazz replied, finally able to take compliments like that gracefully after so long. Though it still amazed him on occasion that something he simply loved to do still seemed to impress so many.

"So tell me about yourself," Optimus prompted after a sip of energon.

The mech across from his laughed, visor flashing in amusement. "What would you like to know?"

"Whatever you care to tell me," Optimus left it completely open.

Jazz considered for a few kliks before he began to speak. "My creators were deactivated in an accident when I was very young. My sire's brother became the head of the house, and pushed me towards the trade business at first. That is how Prowl and I met."

Optimus nodded, his manner encouraging and welcoming Jazz to tell the story, or anything else. He knew from his merge that controlling Prowl meant understanding and using Prowl's mate to do so. Becoming friends with Jazz would be critical in becoming the Prime that the Matrix wanted him to be.

"My uncle set up a bonding contract for me, and when I refused Prowl took me in, and his family adopted me." Jazz continued, then paused to see what sort of a reaction this part of his story earned him.

"You refused because you already loved Prowl?" Optimus didn't really guess.

"Very much so." Jazz admitted. "And the mecha that had made the offer for me..." His voice trailed off, the memory still bringing pain and fear with it even after so long.

"Was not a nice one to you before," Optimus said gently, all too familiar with the reality even though he'd escaped it personally.

"Prowl stood up for me." He added, something else the Prime should know. "Even in the face of his own creators' doubts and reservations."

"I'm not surprised," warm blue optics expressed the smile hidden by the now-permanent battle mask. "He is a very strong mech, one willing to fight for what he wants. He wanted you a great deal, even then."

Jazz nodded. "Thank Primus. They were the ones who supported me through my trade training as a musician."

Optimus hummed, a sound of approval and appreciation. "Tell me, if you could choose, what would you do as an Autobot?"

The question caught Jazz completely off guard, and he was quiet as he considered, before reaching out to Prowl. ~Love.~

~Answer for yourself, what duties would make you happy,~ Prowl nudged him back. ~Or at least happier.~

"Communications would be nice." Jazz finally answered, considering. In truth, anything that kept him closer to his mate and his creations would be preferable to what he put them all through now.

"Cryptography?" Optimus suggested, knowing already how desperate the need was in that sub-department. Desperate enough that Whiplash wouldn't fume _too_ much when the order went through.

"That would work." Jazz said, perking up hopefully and relaying the suggestion to Prowl.

~Desperately needed,~ Prowl supplied. ~Ops can be trained. Cryptography is a processor set, much like Tactical. Extremely rare to be good at outside of the dedicated builds.~

"We can see if you fit in as well as the Matrix believes," Optimus nodded, taking another sip of the high grade he still wasn't close to used to the quality of. "You will be of far more use to me as a sounding board and balance for your mate. I need him, but I need him closer to centered than he's been in many vorns."

A state both of them wished for, the flare of hope in Jazz's field something he did not even attempt to mask. "It sounds like an agreeable position."

"Don't like this energon?" Optimus asked, glancing at the cube that had barely been sipped on.

Jazz chuckled softly and finally took a longer drink of the energon. "Not entirely to my taste, but very good quality." He admitted.

"I'm still getting used to it," Optimus admitted with a judgmental look at the cube he was holding. "It's nothing like what I'm used to." He considered his companion for a moment. "Not all quality high grade tastes like this, then?"

"No, not at all." Jazz studied the mech seated across from him and smiled. "Not at all. Each city had its own distinct flavor, and variations within that. I'll have to arrange for you to try something else."

"I got the distinct impression that this one is 'Prime' flavored," he chuckled ruefully and finished the cube. "Ratchet fusses at me if I don't finish a cube an orn, though I never quite worked out why. It'd be nice to have something else around though."

"Ratchet fusses at everyone. It is part of his function." Jazz said with a smile. "He threatened to do horrible things to me when he was afraid I was going to "Infect" Prowl with a sense of humor."

An optic ridge quirked. "Prowl's may be dry and understated, but it very much exists. Yours is just all the more obvious, which he makes _very_ good use of, by the way."

"He uses all of his resources to his advantage." Jazz said with another smile and a shrug. "It's part of what has gotten him this far."

"Yes," Optimus considered with a low hum. "He's quite gifted at manipulating people and events. A disturbing ability to remove morals from consideration is another of his talents. Both have served him and the Autobots well so far. So long as he does not push the line too far, I will continue to give him leeway. I will not punish him for acts approved of by former Primes, even if the approval was only in the form of not refusing. He should be ready to have his larger plans vetted now, however. I will not be the figurehead that my predecessors were to him."

Jazz nodded slowly, thankful that Prowl would not be punished for his past actions, and confident that between the two of them they could come up with plans that this new Prime would approve of. And if he were to get the transfer it would allow him to help his mate more.

"I will work on your transfer. You work on your mate's stability," Optimus said as he stood, reaching for Jazz's mostly untouched energon cube. "And do apologize to him for me. I realize now just how bad an impression our first meeting left on him."

"It could have been far worse." Jazz said as he rose. "He is willing to give you a chance. And the transfer would help matters a great deal."

"Yes, he could have tried to tear my spark out," the Prime said with easy acceptance. "It did occur to him at least twice."

Jazz hid his flinch at that, sure now that he would have to go back and talk this Prime over his with his mate in depth, and praying that Whiplash did not call him out for a major mission before the transfer could go through.

Optimus set the nearly-full cube of high grade on the bar where the decanter was and pretended not to notice Jazz's flinch. "He's also one of only two mecha among my command officers willing to be honest and challenge me. I happen to appreciate that, so long as he keeps it to an appropriate setting; in private or a meeting."

"He will." That Jazz could almost promise, thanks to his mate's own professional and practical nature. Not that Prowl would not act out of character if he deemed it would get him the result he wanted.

"Good," Optimus nodded, a hint of steel in his voice warning of consequences if Prowl didn't before walking Jazz to the door. "I look forward to seeing you again."

"And I you." Jazz said with a respectful nod and actual honestly as he stepped out of the door. "Be well."

"Be well," Optimus inclined his helm and watched the small mech go before stepping back so the door closed.

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Optimus checked the time and opened a comm line as he set several datapads out on his desk. The desk, the entire office, was still a place where Optimus did not feel comfortable, but he thought that it was a place that Prowl would feel more comfortable. And right now creating a working relationship with his second was one of his top priorities. After their merge, he had nothing to hide about how poorly this office still suited him.

::Prowl.::

There was a surprisingly long pause before the Praxian responded, and he sounded almost distracted when he did. ::Yes, Prime?::

::When you get off shift I would like you to join me in my office. I have some things I wish to discuss with you.:: Optimus replied, making it clear that not coming was not an option, but that he was also aware that Prowl was busy.

::I will have my current analysis cycle complete in a breem and a half, if that is acceptable?:: Prowl responded promptly.

::Of course. I will see you then.:: Optimus said, pleased. The comm line closed and he went back to skimming reports and reviewing in his processor what he needed to accomplish and the best way to do so. While he knew Prowl was intensely logical, he also had the capacity to use that logic and intellect to become impossibly stubborn when he felt threatened without an exit strategy.

In exactly twelve kliks Prowl pinged for entrance.

Optimus signaled the door to open and welcomed his second in. "Thank you for coming." He motioned to the seat across from his desk, and to the energon and the datapads waiting on the organized surface. "Join me?"

"Of course," Prowl canted his wings slightly as he stepped in and took the offered seat. His attention centered on the datapads, already fairly certain of what they contained and eager to read. The sooner he knew his Prime's demands the sooner he could adapt his plans.

"Most of the terms you wish to present to Megatron are acceptable. You will find some suggestions and minor alterations noted on them. Contact me if you have any questions." Optimus started, motioning to the datapads and allowing Prowl a few moments to plug in and download the contents so he could process it while they spoke.

"The other thing I wished to discuss with you were your population control plans." He continued.

"Cybertron can not support the population it had, or even the one it has," Prowl gave a polite warning that he would not give up easily on controlling the population to ensure all had enough to survive.

"I caught thoughts of forming colonies to help with the problem. I am willing to give you the authority to form them, if you can turn it into a viable option." Optimus countered.

"Once the war is over, it will quickly become a viable option if funding is available," Prowl said almost cautiously, running a massive number of calculations on the fly. "Since the majority of the most expensive aspect, the long-range fleet, will be required for the peace treaty, it will not be as painful for the budget as it might otherwise be. It is still a long-term solution, not one that can be implemented to cancel out the existing plans within a thousand vorns."

"I know you are busy, but if you could work out the logistics of the colonies, I would appreciate it. Another consideration might be how many mecha are capable of working off planet and could be sent out in the wake of military to harvest and return the supplies we need." Optimus suggested, working to satisfy the demands the Matrix, his own conscience, and find something for his Second to work with.

"I am busy," Prowl acknowledged. "What you ask asking is also part of my function. Using the most basic requirements, approximately ninety-three percent of the current population is capable of performing duties off planet. I have been working on that plan since I gained enough rank to have a say in it."

Optimus nodded, relieved and pleased. "Your plan to limit the population by controlling the ability to kindle- what sort of reversal did you have in mind for that? Denying certain sections of the population that right will only start the cycle once more."

"Of those that do not have the systems installed, I recommend maintaining that law, with a new provision that the systems will be installed on request after a thousand vorns of service at no cost to the mecha." Prowl said simply. "It will reduce instances of abuse where mecha are ordered for the sole purpose of creating sparklings. I have read entirely too much of that not to try and stop it.

"Of those who are having their reproductive systems suppressed, I strongly recommend against changing the system," Prowl said firmly. "The energon that ensures they remain infertile is only doled out to those who can not afford energon on their own. If a mecha cannot afford to buy energon for themselves, they are not in a financial position to raise a sparkling either. If _we_ do our job in rebuilding the world and economy, the system of free energon for the needy will not be drawn on in significant numbers. If it is, we have failed."

Prime had to concede that point, and did so with a nod. "You have indeed thought all of this through. The plan is agreeable, and the reasoning sound."

Prowl relaxed a fraction, relieved that this Prime could see the reason and extended value of the plan that did not sit well with most who knew of it. "Planning is what I do."

"There is one point of your plan that I want altered." Optimus started, his tone making it clear that this was a point he was not likely to give much on. "All planets will be carefully scouted, and those with sentient species present will be bypassed on our search for resources. No exceptions."

Prowl's sensor wings flared slightly, a display of just how much he disagreed. "Your reasoning?"

"There are enough resources available, even if we have to hunt longer for them, without potentially making enemies that we can ill afford to fend off now." Optimus countered. "Such expansion has come around to hurt us in the past. I will not start that again." He studied Prowl for a moment, then continued a little more gently. "I am not saying that we are not to defend ourselves. Any threat should be eliminated as quickly as possible. But there is no reason to be the aggressor against those who offer us no threat."

"It is far better to end a threat before it can hurt you," Prowl said evenly, the bland tone and calm demeanor doing little to hide just how strongly he believed what he was saying. "Targeting worlds before they become interstellar is the most effective way to keep outside threats to a minimum."

"What can be a threat can also be a potential ally. It is not a choice for us to make." A battle of wills was quickly becoming clear. A battle that Optimus was determined to win. He watched as Prowl took in his words and manner and made a choice.

"Then it will be on you when they seek to destroy us," Prowl said simply. His anger stilled, dismissed as irrelevant, as he turned a noticeable part of his processor power towards how to protect the few mecha he cared about when this Prime, or the next, lost his bet against the odds. "I will not endorse a plan that has a 12.3% probability of success."

"A responsibility I will accept." Optimus considered. "Focus on rebuilding first. Bypass all sentient inhabited worlds. Once Cybertron is stable and flourishing once more, we can discuss this again."

Prowl's surprise was too strong to hide. It showed in his wings and across his face. "What makes you believe I have any intention of being here to have such a discussion with? You _know_ it from me, you heard it from Jazz. Once this war is settled, I'm going back to my family."

"Then it is not something that you will have to worry about." Optimus concluded. "It will be part of the policy. As I am sure you have noticed, I left most of the rest of it as you had it written."

"Yes," Prowl inclined his helm in acceptance even as he grieved for the future that would pay the price for this choice. Deep in his code a thread was being written to accept that he would eventually take the blame for the fall of Cybertron because the plan he had engineered the bulk of left them painfully vulnerable. "I will do the best I can within your parameters. Is there anything else?"

"Let me know when you are planning to contact Megatron. Other than that, I leave this in your hands." Optimus replied.

"Before I log off duty," Prowl answered as he stood. "He is typically in his office at this time."

"Then I would like to be informed of his answer, and kept appraised of each change as it happens."

"Understood," Prowl canted his wings in easy acceptance. "I will arrange for a live feed for you to listen to, or Jazz's presence with you if Megatron objects to the transmission."

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With their creations safely in recharge for the night and all other pressing matters seen to Jazz finally settled onto the berth and into his mate's arms, frame shifting to touch as much of his mate as possible. "Love you." He murmured, nuzzling against Prowl.

"As I love you," Prowl murmured in return as he turned his helm for a soft kiss. "I saw your pending transfer to Cryptography today."

"The sooner it goes through, the happier everyone will be." Jazz said between soft kisses. "Except Whiplash, but he is just going to have deal with it."

There was a small amount of glee in Jazz's voice at that prospect, since he had never really forgiven the SpecOps commander for putting Prowl through the pain of having thought Jazz gone for no good reason.

"Yes he will," Prowl shivered at the prospect of having his mate _safe_. "Hopefully it will all be a moot point within the decade. Then you can become the family matron carrier was training you to be."

Jazz hummed at the prospect, tilting his helm to look into his mate's optics. "Will I still be allowed to perform?" He asked, hopeful.

"I will never try to take that from you," he promised with a pulse across the bond. "Bluestreak will be delighted to take any matron duties you don't have time for. With his bonding to Idarassi he won't be going anywhere, and he was trained for it as well."

"Something that he can do that will keep him busy and safe." Jazz purred as his kissed his mate again, deeper this time in hope and gratitude. "And hopefully soon. How did your meeting with the Prime go?"

"His insistence on no preemptive strikes will hurt us in the long run, but he allowed much of my plans to stand," he sighed. "It could have been _much_ worse, though it could have gone better." Prowl stroked along Jazz's plating. "The next few centuries will be very busy, but far less dangerous."

"What could have been better?" Jazz asked. He had already been sure that Prowl was not going to get all of his own way, but he had hoped that compromise could be reached between the two.

"He could have allowed the orders to target pre-space faring race bearing planets to stand," Prowl said simply. "He wants to believe that more will become allies than enemies. It's delusional."

"It may be." Jazz agreed. "But it is that sort of hope that is probably going to reach enough of the mecha after the war is over and make them believe so that the rest of your plans can succeed."

"My only hope is that he knows something he will not tell me," Prowl said quietly. "Otherwise his hopeful delusion will cost us as dearly as Sentinel's did when he pulled the army back and decommissioned most of them. We flourished as long as we were exploring and expanding. There is no safety when unknown and likely hostile races have homeworlds inside your territory. It's like protecting a Decepticon base in Iacon from attack."

"He may surprise you yet love." Jazz murmured, holding Prowl caressing Prowl comfortingly across the bond. "This one seems more willing to listen to the Matrix, and to listen to advice from outsiders. He is willing to listen to your arguments, and all he asks is that you keep them to appropriate settings. That is a step in the right direction."

"I know. He's a far better potential leader than Sentinel or Zeta," he admitted with a quiet grumble. "It doesn't mean I was ready to hand over power."

Jazz chuckled softly, nuzzling Prowl. "You'll manage. And if he is willing to start figuring it out now then there will be less for you to do when you can go back to worrying about trade, your family, and indulging me."

"I am looking forward to that," Prowl almost melted in pleasure at the thought. "Especially the last one." He turned to claim a kiss that held a hint of passion. "Indulging you has long been my pleasure."

Jazz savored the kiss, drawing it out before pulling back enough to look at his mate again. "And what of the negotiations?"

"I'll need you in the command center to give a real-time running commentary to the Prime, and be ready to order the launch of the remaining missiles should anything happen to me," Prowl focused on duty in a flash. "While I believe Megatron is ready to seriously negotiate a peace, it does not mean it could not go badly."

Jazz's spark trembled. "You are going in alone then?" He asked, focusing on that part struck closest to home for him, and already accepting the part Prowl wished him to play.

"No," he pulsed reassurance across the bond. "I'm taking Blaster and Ironhide into the room with me and a small unit will travel with us. I will not be unduly vulnerable."

Jazz calmed a little at that, still distressed that he would not be there to protect his mate, but comforted by the fact Prowl would not be going in completely unprotected. "We should see if Bluestreak and Ida will watch the younglings during the meeting."

"If it runs past school time, you know they'll be delighted to," Prowl chuckled. "Those two love to sparkling sit."

"I was thinking it might be a good idea anyway. Just in case something does happen to you. I will not be able to go to them if I am coordinating with the Prime," Jazz pointed out. "Blue and Ida can comfort them and get them to a medic if need be better than their instructors."

Prowl hummed as he though about that, then nodded. "Agreed. We can comm arrangements in the morning."

"And I will stay with Optimus and relay everything you need him to know." Jazz hummed. "It might be to our advantage to be able to communicate without Megatron knowing. So long as Soundwave is not present as well."

"He and Starscream will be there," Prowl shook his helm. "That's why I'm bringing Blaster. It'll keep Soundwave from being too nosy in my helm unless I let him in."

"Hmm. Thinking of everything." Jazz said with pride and affection, drawing on Prowl's calm to ease himself.

"It _is_ what they pay me for," Prowl teased affectionately before turning serious. "I have every intention of coming home safely, even if the negotiations fail. That means stacking as much in my favor as I can. You're key to that, love. The greatest reason they can possibly be given to ensure my safety."

"Then I will do my best." Jazz promised with a soft hum. He was horrified at the idea of giving such an order, yet comforted that his mate had such an effective threat to hold as protection.

"Then indulge me tonight?" Prowl trilled with a flare of desire across the bond.

"Whatever you want." Jazz replied, kissing Prowl with matching desire for his mate.

A shiver passed down Prowl's backstrut as he extracted himself from his mate between kisses that grew ever more heated before he had to turn away to settle on his hands and knees with his wings flared backwards.

Jazz purred in anticipation, eagerness flaring across the bond as he rolled to his knees behind his mate, hands already reaching the captivating wings. "I love it when you let me do this."

"I love it when you do," Prowl moaned and pressed into the touch. "Love trusting you this much."

Jazz leaned over his mate's back, hands sliding along the wings in gentle caresses as he kissed the back of Prowl's neck softly. "Safe with me." He promised, the feelings of love and safety that he felt from being with Prowl echoing across the bond in response.

"Yesss," Prowl moaned and arched into the touch, into the bond, filling it with the sensations and how sweet the emotional trust was.

Jazz rocked his hips against Prowl, warm and suggestive. "Let me have it all?" He pleaded. The answer came with the slide of a panel and Prowl's moan as arousal spiked between them.

"Please," Prowl shifted to offer himself all the more fully.

Jazz moaned, the bond opened fully to share the pleasure of the welcoming tight heat of his mate's valve around his spike. He moved slowly, savoring the closeness as he worked Prowl's wings. "So perfect. So glad you chose me, even though I had nothing to offer in return. Love you, so very much." Jazz whispered against Prowl's back.

~You always had much to offer me,~ Prowl challenged the statement despite the pleasure coursing through him. ~Acceptance, balance, attention ... you offered what I value the most.~

~My love.~ Jazz said as he started to thrust into the welcoming valve, hands and lips moving over Prowl's frame with ever motion intended to bring pleasure and a physical reminder of the bond between them.

Despite the way his vents hitched and pleasure danced across his circuits, Prowl could no longer let it go. ~Why have you never believed me?~

Jazz held Prowl tighter, though his hips never stopped. His spark begged for forgiveness. His spark knew, but the fear that Prowl would leave him, that the one he loved and needed most would be lost was still here. And he still needed to hear the words and the reassurance. ~I believe in _you_ love.~

It made Prowl relent, his hurt at his mate's too-often spoken words of being worthless fading at the understanding that Jazz needed a little reassurance extra now. He understood, even when it stung, even when he had very little to give after his own strains. He rustled his wings for attention, trying to break the mood that had claimed them.

~Not you love. Me.~ Jazz promised him, hands sliding along Prowl's wings once more. ~You are everything I _want_. Everything I _need_. I just forget sometimes. And then you remind me. Like this.~

Jazz kissed the sensor housing for Prowl's wings as his fingers slipped into the gaps, searching for the sensitive wires and cables hidden there. ~Remind me tonight. And tomorrow night, after you succeed.~

~I wish I could heal that broken line of code,~ Prowl responded softly as a deep moan escaped his vocalizer and he rolled back into the thrusts and arched his shoulders into knowing fingers. ~I will remind you.~

~Some orn.~ Jazz whispered in reply, his attention shifting to focus on driving his mate over the edge.

SxSxSxSxSxSxSxSx S===================S SxSxSxSxSxSxSxS

The large mech seated at the desk was intimidating to look at, and dominated the smaller room that had been selected for the meeting. Sharp red optics flickered at the two mecha flanking him. Starscream, his Second in Command and commander of the Decepticon air forces. And Soundwave, the loyal mech that had stood behind him since he had risen from the pits, coordinating and shaping the changes that their world needed to see.

Megatron did not have high hopes for the negotiations today, but Autobots had proven more ruthless than any of them had anticipated. The leveling of four entire cities loyal to the Decepticon cause had prompted him to come and at least listen to the Autobot proposal when the Autobot Second himself called. Given this was the third Prime that particular mech had organized the war effort for, he was one that the new Prime, one not even a full decaorn in the rank yet, was likely to listen to.

Even knowing full well who he was meeting, watching the elegant, almost slender Praxian with full three-segment sensor wings enter the room was something of a shock. He was _tiny_ compared to the ancient warrior and Host that flanked him. Not as small as a femme or minibot, but Megatron doubted he had even half of Starscream's mass. It was a sharp reminder not to discount a mecha because of their frame. This one had caused untold difficulties during the war, and proven he was as savage as any Decepticon warrior in his willingness to win.

"Megatron, Starscream, Soundwave," Prowl's dispassionate voice was locked in its coldest, most formal mode. Yet even there the inflection was audible in Starscream's designation just how much _more_ he hated the Air Commander than the other two. "I am Prowl, Second in Command of the Autobot army and authorized by the Prime to conduct these negotiations."

~You know why I'm here,~ Blaster spoke silently to the other Host. ~Keep your thoughts on your side and we'll get along.~

Soundwave's helm tilted in the barest of acknowledgments before his attention shifted to Megatron as the warlord stood, towering over the much smaller Praxian.

"You have made it clear that you know who we are, and Ironhide and Blaster we know. So we both forget the formalities and get to work. You said you had terms. I will listen to them." Listen, but made no promise to agree to any of them. In truth, Megatron doubted that either side would walk away satisfied today. They had already taken down Primes who wanted to restore things to the way they had been. If this Praxian was here to present the same conditions over again Megatron might very well settle for blasting him and sending the pieces back the new Prime as an answer.

Prowl canted his wings slightly in a move so reminiscent of when Seekers spoke to each other it was more than a little odd coming from a grounder. Yet Prowl sat down and brought out three datapads from his subspace to hand over, one for each of the Decepticons.

"I should warn you that deactivating or detaining me would be very unpleasant to the territories loyal to you," Prowl met Megatron's bright red optics with a clear, calm ice blue gaze. "Orders have been left that should my bonded indicate anything has gone seriously wrong with me, the remaining city buster missiles will be launched.

"The full details of the initial draft are listed there," Prowl said as he settled in for what could be a marathon session even by his standards. "The fundamentals. All Cybertronians will be entitled to a living wage ration based on frametype and mods, free from the government. Paid for by taxing the income of those earning more than twice the poverty level for their district."

"So the lowest of society will simply be fed until they are worked to deactivation now?" Megatron growled as flicked the power switch and started to scan the section clearly organized with regards to civilians. Instead of answering, Prowl allowed the treaty words, words written as a binding contract not just with the Decepticons, but for a completely different way of governing the masses.

Instead of what he expected Megatron was met with...reason. Or at least reasonable enough conditions. The opportunity to advance would be there, if mecha were willing to take advantage of it. No longer would mecha be locked into their stations for their entire functions, abused and subjected until their sparks guttered from existence. No longer would the conditions that created the misery and hopelessness of the gutters where mecha fought for every scrap of energon and simply to exist be permitted, because at least energon would not be in such a short supply. Finally he looked up at Prowl. "And the new _Prime_ is in agreement with all of this?"

"Yes," Prowl inclined his helm. "He insisted on better conditions than I could have under the last two. He was a dock worker, then a grunt. He saw some of what you rebelled against, and he hated it."

"Even your plans to control the population? I have heard him speak, and it seems to be against what he stands for." Megatron prodded.

"Yes, even those," Prowl canted his wings. "Only because of the limitations placed on them. If a mecha cannot afford their own energon, they are not in a position to care for a sparkling. The effects wear off within a decaorn of when one stops consuming the additive."

Megatron settled back in his seat, studying the mech before him and seeing him in a rather new light. "Ruthless, but effective." He finally said. "And what of mecha like me and my soldiers? Deactivation for us, in the name of justice?"

"Not even for Starscream, despite the personal temptations," Prowl kept himself completely steady as the Seeker twitched, reminded of just how precarious his situation could become in very short order. "While section 3 details the process fully, those who are with you because fighting is what they prefer have a place in the military, under the directive to search out and secure the resources we will need to rebuild and maintain a healthy Cybertron. You will be the front line of our defense. Those with other interests are likely to integrate into the general population, if they can. The system worked well for generations. I have not anticipated any reasons it would fail now, so long as the leadership they look to believes in the mission. Execution is reserved for those who refuse to rejoin society _and_ can not be successfully wiped to begin a fresh existence."

"I want time to look and consider all of the terms." Megatron said, meeting Prowl's optics firmly. Time to look over them, have Soundwave analyze them, and come up with any counter demands that they might have. Still, the terms that he had been presented with so far seemed reasonable enough. Far more reasonable than he had any real expectation of.

"Will three orns be sufficient?" Prowl replied, expecting the request. He'd have been highly disturbed if the demand hadn't been made.

"Yes. And the place and time of the next meeting?" Megatron asked.

"Here, two joors after dawn," Prowl suggested.

"Agreed. Same mecha present?" Megatron inquired.

"Affirmative," Prowl canted his wings again before he stood. "I will see you in three orns."

Megatron watched in silence as the Autobot SIC departed, his guards not far behind, and considered everything that had just happened.

"It's a trap," Starscream blurted out, his wings twitching and flicking in distress. "He's just trying to get us to turn ourselves in."

"And what would he gain from that?" Megatron asked, still flipping through the data on the datapad that Prowl had left for him and looking at Soundwave to see if the communications host had anything to contribute.

"Easy access to have us killed!" the Seeker screeched in full rant mode. "If he gave _real_ plans we'd never agree to be led to our deaths!"

"Blaster: prevented Soundwave from scanning Prowl." The Host replied evenly as always. "Soundwave: believes Prowl's offer is genuine."

"He has a use for us." Megatron said, setting the datapad down. "From what I know, he is not one to waste resources."

"Affirmative," Soundwave agreed. "Prowl: a merchant at spark."

"And you _believe_ him that he's above vengeance? We destroyed his city, his creators, everything." Strong white wings flared and flapped his stress bordering on panic. "That's a _Praxian_."

"No one is above vengeance." Megatron said with a dark laugh. "But if you would bother to look at the information he has offered, it is a lot of work and thought that vengeance would only interfere with."

Starscream scowled, his rant cut short by such a rational reaction. "Like what?" he demanded suspiciously.

"The Seekers appear to play a large part both in the exploration and defense plans, and you are the current Air Commander, for one thing. Pardon for our actions is guaranteed to all willing to either join the official military or attempt to live a normal life." Megatron pointed out. "Killing us serves no purpose and only hurts them."

"What does _he_ get out of all this?" Starscream scowled.

"Safety for mate and sparklings," Soundwave supplied evenly, regarding the Seeker once more and probing just how stable the high strung mech was.

"Get out of my processors!" Starscream whirled on him with a snarl.

"Enough." Megatron snapped at him before focusing on Soundwave. "Is that motivation enough for him to be honest?"

"Affirmative," Soundwave said with certainty. "Prowl: entered war to end the war to protect family. Prowl: could have remained a successful merchant and become extremely wealthy. Prowl: chose family over wealth."

"Enough for you?" Megatron asked, attention turning to Starscream.

"That he doesn't have it out for you two, yes," he twitched uneasily.

Soundwave paused, trying to navigate the mangled mess of Starscream's emotional status to make sense of the answer.

"And he gains little by killing you." Megatron pointed out again. Though he has to admit he was getting to the point where shooting the Seeker himself was a tempting thought.

"Starscream's betrayal greater than ours," Soundwave stated, though it was almost a question to the Seeker. "Praxians: kin."

"Yes, yes, they're kin," Starscream threw his hands up. "They made a lot more of it than we ever did. I shouldn't expect a couple of sparked mechs to get sparklines and kin loyalty. A Praxian's going to see you as a revolutionary and I'm a traitor. I'm the one on the hook for destroying Praxus and Praxians. Just like Prowl's the one who leveled Vos. I really thought you _knew_ all this."

"Then we will ask about your safety in three orns time." Megatron growled, just wanting to shut the panicking Seeker up.

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Starscream was even more twitchy than before when Prowl walked into the meeting room, ever polite to allow the Decepticons to settle in first. He'd chosen the where, he gave them time to feel confident it wasn't a trap. The sight of the Seeker so uneasy around him, and Megatron's clear annoyance at the fact, brought a tiny smile to Prowl's otherwise-neutral features.

He wouldn't hurt the Seeker, but he'd wrangle every bit of revenge he could manage on the psychological level.

"Prowl." The warlord greeted him, not bothering to rise but diplomatically acknowledging the mech he was to negotiate with.

"Megatron," Prowl canted his wings in greeting before taking his seat.

The two Hosts gave each other a look and settled into their duties of keeping the other out of processors it didn't belong in. Not that either one tried to cross that line.

"First, are there any sections you wish clarification on?" Prowl asked politely.

Megatron's helm twitched briefly, negative. "Your terms were presented very clearly."

"Then is there anything you wish to negotiate the change of?" Prowl prompted calmly, enjoying the way Starscream twitched.

"No." Megatron responded, his tone take on a bit of a growl, though the reaction was not directed at Prowl, but rather irritation with the twitching Seeker at his back. If there was any reasonable way he could have kept Starscream from coming he would have.

Though the unreasonable way of beating him into scrap beforehand if another meeting occurred was looking better by the klik.

A flicker of surprise flickered across Prowl's features before he nodded. "Will you sign it?"

"In a moment. Starscream wishes reassurance that he and the Seekers will be shielded from...vengeance...for their actions." Megatron rumbled.

"Yes," Prowl responded with a meaningful glare for the Seeker in question. "They will be pardoned by the Prime and protected by law."

"Then your terms are agreeable." Megatron said. It was not the kind of victory he had hoped to win, but in the end it was what they had been fighting for, something that Soundwave had carefully pointed out to him while they had been going over the treaty again.

"While the formal signing with the Prime will be at noon tomorrow over the ruins of the Prime's Palace in Iacon, I have been given the authority to sign the functional copy until then," Prowl said simply as he drew out a metal datapad specially constructed to only take one upload. A transfer from his later he carved his full, formal rank and designation glyph into the front, then handed it to Megatron to confirm it was what they'd agreed to and sign it himself.

Megatron took his time, looking over the datapad and making sure that everything was word for word what had been presented before his designation joined Prowl's on the front, signaling and end to the revolt he started and a start to revolution he had envisioned.

A second copy was produced and signed the same way so both sides could walk away with hard proof of what had been agreed to.

"The Prime would like to speak with you in person," Prowl said as he placed his copy in subspace, directing the comment at Megatron alone. "Preferably before the signing, though afterwards would be acceptable if you prefer not to follow me to Iacon now."

"May as well get it over with." Megatron rumbled, handing his copy to Soundwave instead of holding on to it himself.


	26. To the Future

**Into the Light 17: To the Future**  
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Bluestreak and Jazz were moving with swift, nervous efficiency through their newly built home overlooking what would become the new Helix Gardens. This was one of the first towers raised on the site of the former city of Praxus, a location that had been leveled, cleaned up and the basics of a functional settlement built. Work done mostly by Decepticon hands to keep them busy while the first exploration ships were built for them. More than a few mecha on all sides suspected it was also a gift to the mech who oversaw it as compensation for not being given Starscream's life, or at least wings.

Whatever the actual reason, it made Prowl _happy_ and that was something mecha on both sides found appealing.

There were still small things that needed to be done, improvements and personal touches that Jazz wanted to make, but it was good to have a location to call home again that wasn't a military offering. He smiled at the sensations trickling over the creator bonds with all three younglings. As expected, Sunstreaker was in bliss being fussed over and detailed within an inch of his life by professionals while Sideswipe was tolerating it once his sire had managed to corral him and deliver him to the team that had been hired to tend to the family looks. Overdrive was still in hiding, but they all knew he was no match for his carrier. Even his displeasure wasn't real distress, but more of the warmth that youthful 'I don't want to' could create.

Even Prowl was finding it amusing for the time being.

"It looks good Blue. Prowl'll be happy." He told the younger mech, smiling as he patted the Praxian on the shoulder and looked around.

Jazz had been responsible for choosing the decor of the common rooms of the tower. The family dining room they were standing in was a reflection of Praxian style arrangement with Jazz's personal flare in the wall decor and the colors that Prowl found acceptable.

Bluestreak had set the buffet tables, selected and arranged the food, and asked Jazz for help with selecting a band to provide live music. That band, six mecha who often played backup for Jazz, were currently checking the tune on instruments and confirming what they'd play for the evening.

It was a blissfully _normal_ moment for them all, a step back from the war and all that had brought. Jazz was fairly sure that Prowl had insisted this be formal and _important_, the invitation list stretching past seventy, even though it was only a housewarming party. To remind them all that despite the vorns they had suffered in Iacon, life would be _normal_ once more. They were a _merchant_ family once again, strong and important, and they were no longer mechlings. They were adults and they were ready to reclaim their place.

The thought brought Prowl's attention and a warm weaving of affection, pride and joy around Jazz's spark before Prowl appeared. He was polished and detailed as gloriously as he'd been on his promotion to Second in Command of the Autobots, but far more relaxed and excited.

Jazz patted Bluestreak once more on the shoulder before crossing the room and catching Prowl's hand, kissing the knuckles gently as love and admiration flooded the bond. "Get Overdrive delivered safely?"

"Yes," Prowl purred, resisting the urge to grab his mate and kiss him senseless. ~It's so good to see you the way I remember you in happier times.~

~Scatter-processored?~ Jazz teased, visor bright with laughter as he leaned forward to carefully kiss his mate. ~I'll be no match for you, even when the professionals are done with me.~

~Happy, and looking like yourself again,~ Prowl smiled and kiss back, the fire of desire as hot as when they first kissed. ~Silver was very pretty, I admit, but I am pleased you like your original look enough to return to it.~

~With a few improvements, I hope.~ Jazz countered, having liked the look of more elegant sensor fins instead of returning to the stubbier horns his old form had sported. Blue and black graced his once more slender frame, the bulk of the armor gone. With its loss had come the return of his inherent grace, and the ability to snuggle against his mate that he resisted right now.

~Yes,~ Prowl purred, reluctantly drawing away from the kiss as the lift approached. He too had shed much of his armor, though he'd kept a bit more than a civilian usually had. He'd kept his full sensor wings as well, a physical reminder to all of the rank he once held that put him on level with a royal. Except he'd kept them because his mate loved them, not because they intimidated others. ~Do you know anything of Smokescreen's lover?~

~That she really is a professional dancer, and that not all of her income comes from her official occupation.~ Jazz supplied.

~Which explains how Smokescreen met her,~ Prowl chuckled and stepped forward to greet his brother and the lovely little light Aerial on his arm. "Welcome home, Smokescreen," the formal words were full of genuine warmth for the cousin that had become a brother by choice.

"It is good to be welcomed home once more." Smokescreen answered as he stepped to the side and presented the femme on his arm. "May I present Cirrus, my partner for the evening. Cirrus, my cousin Prowl, and head of the family. The handsome mecha next to him is his First Bonded, Jazz."

"Welcome," Prowl smiled and canted his wings in greeting.

The pale femme's slender wings dipped in acknowledgement as her helm inclined. Every move was graceful and precise, a reflection of her form and function. "It is an honor."

Beyond Prowl and Jazz, Bluestreak was quivering in nervous excitement, leaning lightly into the comfort and supporting coils of his mate. Smokescreen motioned them forward. "Prowl's younger brother, Bluestreak, and his bonded, Idarassi."

Idarassi inclined his helm, giving the femme a warm smile, his tailtip lightly curling around Bluestreak's ankle. "Welcome, Cirrus." He kept his frame language neutral, knowing how much he still managed to startle or unnerve those who had never met him before.

"And greetings to you as well." She said nodding to Bluestreak and Idarassi, apparently not at all put off by the serpent mecha's rare form. "Your home is lovely."

"Thank you," Prowl puffed up slightly in pride and motioned them to enter. "Jazz did much of the decorating."

"Only because Prowl has no optic for color." Jazz said with a chuckle as he motioned to Bluestreak. "I did, but Blue was the one who organized the special things for tonight."

Prowl huffed with mock indignity, his wings giving away that he was teasing right back, as did Bluestreak's giggle.

"Never mind them, I live in a house full of insufferable mecha in love," Smokescreen flicked his optics as he explained the two bonded pairs in the room. "They all seem to think I should be too."

"Not that he's ever listened," Prowl smirked at his cousin, then shook his wings before looking at Cirrus. "As you can tell, even formal around here is fairly light-sparked."

"Which is a good thing, since I never quite got the hang of strict formality," the serpent-mech drawled, shifting his coils and wrapping an arm around his mate.

The soft laugh and genuine smile that accompanied reached clear to the femme's bright green optics. "Then I look forward to the evening a great deal. Smokescreen speaks often of his family."

"A flier?" Sideswipe's voice was excited from where he was standing with his brothers near the entrance to the rest of the home. "Smokey's got a _flier_?"

"And that would be Sideswipe," Prowl rolled his optics.

Sunstreaker started forward first, venturing as close as his carrier as he started in fascination.

"Hello." Cirrus greeted all three with a warm, welcoming smile. "If he is Sideswipe, then you must be Sunstreaker and Overdrive." She addressed the other two, wings flaring a little as she caught Sunstreaker watching them.

"Are you going to move in with Smokescreen?" Overdrive asked, blunt in a way the adults couldn't get away with.

"Just because the rest of us went about it backwards doesn't mean Smokey is going to follow the trend," Idarassi commented with a chuckle, glossa flicking out and fluttering rapidly. He let Bluestreak go when his mate got edgy about all the preparations being ready, watching as his love disappeared into the staff section to check in on the kitchen.

"I might consider it. But he would have to ask first. And very nicely at that." She said with a wink to the Praxian who had brought her.

"I want to be very sure neither of us want to play around any more first," Smokescreen chuckled, leaving the option open but speaking to his uncertainty with committing as well.

"Please be at home while you are here," Prowl motioned them to enter as he noticed the lift on its way down to bring more guests up.

Idarassi inclined his helm to Smokescreen and Cirrus, shifting slightly so that he would be easily visible to anyone exiting the lift. Best to get introductions out of the way first and make sure everyone knew he was there, than startle someone by accident later. Besides, with his long tail, he would be more in the way than helpful in the more crowded kitchen areas.

Jazz stepped up beside his mate to greet the next round of guests as Smokescreen led his date deeper into the tower. ~I do rather like this arrangement.~ He said to Prowl across the bond. ~Being able to greet guests with you since Blue is seeing to all of the fine details.~

~You will never find me complaining about having you at my side in anything,~ Prowl purred softly as the long greetings began. It was a smooth process. They knew all the mecha invited, and most were Praxian survivors, eager for a taste of post-war celebration as they put their lives and city back together.

A quietly freaked out call from the tower door guard warned them that Optimus Prime had indeed taken them up on their invitation and was on his way up.

~I wasn't sure if he would show or not.~ Jazz said across the bond as they waited for the lift to arrive.

~Neither did I, though the odds said he would,~ Prowl replied softly before the lift arrived. ::Smokescreen, Bluestreak, Idarassi, to the main lift please to greet the Prime.::

A moment later the lift opened. "Welcome to our home, Optimus Prime," Prowl greeted them.

That was enough to get the attention of everyone who heard.

Helms turned, optics bright in surprise as the Prime stepped through the lift door, Ironhide flanking him smoothly. "I am welcomed, and by very gracious hosts." Optimus replied with a smoothness that he had not possessed several vorns ago when the pair first met him. "Prowl, Jazz. You look well."

"We are, Prime," Prowl spoke easily. "I believe you've met my kin. My brother Bluestreak, his bonded Idarassi, our cousin Smokescreen, and our creations, Sunstreaker, Sideswipe and Overdrive."

Optimus nodded to them as well. "Thank you all for inviting me."

Idarassi shifted, lifting himself slightly higher to meet the Prime's gaze. "Optimus," he greeted, inclining his helm. Privately, he was smiling to himself. The first time he and the Prime had met, Optimus had stepped on his tail before realizing there was actually a mech there and jumping back a step.

"Please make yourselves at home," Prowl motioned them inside, privately smirking at the shocked expressions all around the gathering.

Jazz was snickering on the inside as well, knowing that this would be a boost to their status that would be talked about for vorns. ~Worth it just to see the expressions on their faces.~

~Very much so. One would think that the Prime would attend a party by his former Second. I resigned less than two vorns ago. Memories shouldn't be _that_ short,~ Prowl laughed across the bond even as his features remained calm. They watched as the Prime that had matured so much in two vorns of leadership began working his way around the room, already familiar with each and every guest.

~More coming up love.~ Jazz nudged his mate. ~Though I think should be getting close to the last.~

~There are nine designations that have not arrived and did not send their regrets,~ Prowl focused on his duty as greeter while his family dispersed once more.

The very last to arrive, as expected, was Mirage. The mech on Mirage's arm was a surprise enough to flare Prowl's wings slightly.

"Mirage, Thundercracker," Prowl quickly gathered himself. "Thank you for coming."

The pair bowed and thanked their hosts graciously before joining the rest of the party.

Upon sight of the blue Seeker, the serpent-mech's scales flared and rippled before he forced himself to settle down. He had promised to be civil with the Seekers, even though he was no fonder of them than any Praxian. Nodding a greeting to Thundercracker and Mirage, he slid back into the gathering and to the effort of soothing his riled mate. Bluestreak was flawless on the outside, but the bond rippled and seethed with hatred only loyalty to his brother kept in check.

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Jazz was twitching, wound up from the intense arousal coming from his bonded. Prowl and Bluestreak had been inside the master berthroom for nearly a joor after Jazz had strict orders to stay in the living room of the suite until Bluestreak came out to get him. At first he had tried to concentrate on his music, something to take his processor off the feelings rippling over the bond. Finally he had given up, and was struggling against the urge to prod his bonded.

As such it was an utter relief when Bluestreak finally walked out of the berthroom, though the feeling dimmed when he took in the mech's serious expression. It was a look that belonged on Prowl's face, not Bluestreak's.

A firm silver hand set on Jazz's shoulder. "Take good care of him."

Jazz stared at Bluestreak as the mech departed, then rose quickly, prodding at his mate in confusion.

~Just come in,~ Prowl's thoughts were thick with lust and _need_.

His mate obeyed, opening the door and freezing at the sight that met his optics. His mate was on his knees, his legs spread and bound. There was a cushion to make it more comfortable, but the vulnerability was undeniable even before Jazz's gaze followed the line of Prowl's arms and realized that not only were they bound overhead, but the chain forced him to overbalance slightly forward, exposing his valve. When Jazz's gaze flicked over the rest of his bonded's form, he realized that those lovely wings weren't just spread, they were locked in place by a combination of supports and chains that ran up to the ceiling.

A deep growl escaped Jazz, his entire frame shivering with lust and desire at the picture before him. His response only heightened Prowl's, who quivered and met his mate's optics with ice blue that had brightened to almost unseeing white.

He closed the door to the berthroom and hit the lock. "So lover..."He purred, circling the bound form before kneeling in front of Prowl. "What am I supposed to do with this lovely offering?"

"Take your time," Prowl trembled, the instructions more a plea. "Indulge. Claim. Everything."

"Give me a good reason why I should." Jazz demanded, leaning forward so that his lips stopped just short of his mate's.

"Because I'm asking?" Prowl trembled and tried to shift enough to capture the lips so close to his.

"Not good enough." Jazz said, helm moving back to avoid the contact, though one hand did come up so a fingertip could trace lightly along the edge of Prowl's chevron.

"I'll beg..." Prowl whimpered at the touch, wanting more so badly, wanting his mate to accept verbally what he'd already accepted by his actions.

~Never make you do that.~ Jazz swore, leaning in to kiss his mate. Hands shifted to hold Prowl's helm still as Jazz's glossa invaded, exploring and claiming. Prowl moaned, trembling in relief. Not that he didn't have to beg, he was more than willing to do that for his mate, but that his mate was _finally_ touching him with the passion they both felt.

There was no resistance to Jazz's exploration, the claim welcomed all the way to Prowl's spark. He'd long since lost all doubts of Jazz's love, but for Jazz to _command_ and _dominate_ was still a sweet rarity.

"Where to start though?" Jazz hummed as he pulled back from the kiss, carefully studying the mech spread before him. "So many choices."

Prowl trembled under the scrutiny, the sweet anticipation of just how his mate would touch him, at why he would be made to moan first.

Gentle hands teased down Prowl's chest, the pressure just hard enough so that it didn't tickle. One hand moved to trace along a hip, the other tapped Prowl's spike cover in demand. "Let me see all of you, lover."

A whimper that was pure desire escaped before both covers slid open, allowing lubricant to drip freely onto the cushion and his spike to slide forward. Chest plates unlocked on their own, but remained closed.

"All mine." Jazz purred as his hand moved, fingers tracing the underside of his love's spike from base to tip before wrapping around the length to run back down again. Prowl keened, trembling with arousal driven need. His hips thrust into the touch, seeking more stimulation to bring his charge closer to his arousal level.

"Eager, eager." His lover teased as his other hand joined the first, caressing and squeezing the hard length in firm strokes as Jazz leaned forward to kiss his bonded once more.

Prowl moaned into the kiss, his vents hitching with each touch. "Blue ... talked the entire time..." he shuddered as his fans began to whine. "About what you could do to me."

"And did he imagine I would do this to you?" Jazz purred softly in his bonded's audio before turning his helm to lick the bright chevron.

"Yes," he stuttered, his charge and temperature rising rapidly at finally being _touched_ by his bonded.

"Then I am going to have to work very hard to find something that your very creative brother didn't imagine." Jazz murmured against the chevron, his own frame quivering at the sensations traveling over the bond from his love. "After you overload for me, or course."

Prowl's ventilations picked up rapidly, his pleas tiny sounds rather than words. His optics dimmed, then turned off as his focus centered on the slid of his love's hands along his spike. As much as he reveled in the submission of denial, after a full joor he was eager to taste the bliss if it pleased his mate.

"Let go." Jazz ordered, wanting to see and feel his mate's release for the first time after such a long build up.

A low, resonant moan trembled with Prowl's frame. His focus was on the slide and squeeze of Jazz's hands along his spike, the crackle of energy as it began to leap between connectors and Jazz's plating. It was a touch that was intimately familiar and yet so very new in this context.

His vents gasping for cooling air that would never be sufficient. His hands clutched in open air before his frame arched sharply, thrusting his hips forward and straining against the bonds designed to hold him firmly until he was released.

"So very, very good to me." Jazz praised, his entire frame shivering with his own charge as he watched and felt his mate overload, the charged transfluid tingling against his plating as it splashed against his abdominals and coated his hands.

Prowl sagged, briefly spent and held up by the bindings on his legs and the chain lifting his wrists. His vents wide open and fans at full, he trembled at the praise and the random jolts of pleasure still crackling along his circuits.

Jazz lifted a hand, making a show of licking his fingers clean for his lover before leaning forward and claiming Prowl's lips in another kiss that was returned with a heat that grew as Prowl recovered his bearings.

~Love you,~ Prowl trembled and moaned, the kiss as hot for him as the touch to his spike had been.

~A fact I have never doubted.~ Jazz returned, smiling gently as the kiss broke and he stroked Prowl's face gently. "Now where to go next?" He asked, voice soft and teasing.

"Anything that pleases you," Prowl whimpered and sought Jazz's mouth again. He wanted nothing more than to be teased and brought to drawn out overload after overload until he slid from his bindings, limp and into a sated mate's arms.

Jazz indulged him with a quick kiss before moving away and circling his bonded until he was behind his love, hands tracing along the wings bound and spread for his touch. "Mine, mine alone." He growled possessively as his hands started working over the smooth surfaces.

"Yours, always," Prowl agreed with a gasp and burst of pleasure-lust across the bond.

Jazz leaned forward, lips playing along his bonded's neck as he spoke, hands still tracing over the wings. "Want you to hold off this time. I love playing with yours wings. How long can I do it before you crack this time?"

"Longer than you expect," Prowl shuddered and pressed into the contact. He forced his tactical systems to boot, intent on keeping his charge in check until he couldn't stand the arousal anymore.

"Really? I've had lots of practice at this." Jazz reminded him, hands finding wires and sensors in seams, taking his time to systematically work over and every one from the edges inward. Pleasure came in dizzying bursts over the bond as Prowl trembled and moaned shamelessly, loving every moment and the hardware that allowed him to enjoy the pleasure and the contact so much longer than most.

Jazz growled in return, reveling in the challenge when Prowl did this, loving the way his bonded reacted, and determined to 'win', as the case was. His fingers worked across Prowl's wings, explored the finely sculpted lines where the three fingers interlocked most of the time to leave a flawless impression of a single pane of metal.

"You know I love your wings." Jazz said, lips and glossa tracing along in the wake of his fingers, knowing his sensitive they were and using everything, from vibrations to ex-vents, to tease them. "They make you look so regal, so proud."

"So vulnerable," Prowl moaned the reminder of what had tormented him early in his Autobot career, only to be turned into an advantage once he'd learned how to fight bigger, heavier frames. Under Jazz's touch the metal quivered, responding with minute flexings to the wonderful torment being lavished on it.

"And you let me have them." Jazz said, tweaking the edges carefully, intimately familiar with the fine line between what caused pain, and what brought pleasure.

"Only you," Prowl moaned deep in his chassis, vibrating his plating from pedes to chevron and across his wings. "Never wanted another," he swore, a tiny part of him still feeling guilty for all the others who _had_ possessed his frame over the vorns that Jazz had taken no one else. He knew his mate didn't feel betrayed. Their bonding had ended that question. It was far more a matter of Prowl still feeling a bit dirty about it for himself.

"I know." Jazz whispered, fingers slipping into the sensor housing. "And that is all that matters. All mine now. I know you kept them because I like them."

"Yessss." Prowl moaned and pressed into the touch, his weight shifting as he tried to alter his balance backwards instead of leaning forward. He knew his mate had no intention of delving into his valve just yet.

"You can do better than that." Jazz teased, easing the pressure on Prowl's wings until it tickled some, smiling and laughing against Prowl's back.

"More, please," Prowl begged as his voice rose into a near-keen when his charge began to abate, drawn up by the tactical computer's reserve system faster than the light touch was generating it. "So close."

"Too much for you?" Jazz murmured, doubling his efforts on the most sensitive parts of his bonded's wings, swirling fingertips over the flat surfaces and sliding them along seams to trace the wires underneath, paying special attention to the rarely offered edges between the fingers.

A deep, grateful moan at the return of intentional pleasure resonated up from Prowl's frame as the first tiny wisps of electricity zapped Jazz's fingers. "Not yet."

Fingertips pinched the edges of the sensor wing fingers, dragging along the edge with even pressure as Jazz pushed all of his own growing charge and the wonderful tickle of Prowl's growing charge against his fingers across the bond to his love. "Now?"

A whimper escaped the Praxian as he began trembling hard, the charge building to dance across his plating all across his frame, though it was focused on his wings. "Please ... don't stop," he gasped. He was so close, so very close to the automatic trip where the pleasure-charge turned off his tactical systems and tossed him into the deep end of a potent overload.

"Want to feel you go. Want to feel you fall." Jazz said, frame rubbing against his bonded's as he leaned close to nip and lick at Prowl's neck. ~And I will be there to catch you when you do.~ He promised.

~Plug in, if you want...~ Prowl offered something he guarded even more jealously than his spark.

One hand abandoned its pleasurable quest on a sensor wing to brush lightly over the cover of the nearest dataport on Prowl that Jazz could reach.

~Would love to share that with you.~ Jazz moaned as it slid open. He felt the intensity of the offer in his mate's field and was once more reminded that Prowl guarded this the way Jazz guarded his spark. Jazz would never understand it, but he _did_ appreciate what it said of Prowl's trust of him to offer unprompted.

A shudder and core-deep moan was dragged from Jazz the moment he plugged in and tasted just how high Prowl's charge could go. The processors that his beloved spark powered opened up to him, offering him access without restriction. Shame and joy, pleasure and pain were easy to access, largely unguarded. It was code that defined and calculated every move Prowl had ever made, even those supposedly driven by his spark, that was the true prize, at least in Prowl's self-value. It soon quickly unfolded for Jazz, as alien and familiar as anything his mate had ever done. Jazz took a moment to admire and worship it, the emotion of how _perfect_ Prowl was to him washing across the connection in waves.

It was only a moment before Jazz was reminded how quickly Prowl's tactical systems could absorb every scrap of free energy and he refocused his effort on his mate's wings. He relished in the feedback of just how _good_ it felt for Prowl, but also the reminder that it was not how good it felt that really mattered to Prowl. That place belonged to the care and effort it took to drive him this high from his wings alone. A single mistake, too much pressure in any of a great number of places, and the pain would make it vanish.

While Jazz might not have his mate's memory power or his gift for planning, when it came to Prowl no effort was too much or too great, and Jazz reached into his memory for everything that worked _best_ to bring his mate pleasure.

That one sensor deep in the left wing that was a hair finer than the rest and sent waves through his mate when caressed just right. The way that Prowl reacted when the fingers of his other hand reached into the sensor housing for the thick and surprising reactive cables and played them just right.

The way that Prowl would moan when Jazz hummed that particular note as he kissed the spread fingers of Prowl's wings.

They were memories that brought joyful pleasure to Prowl, moments of care, appreciation that Jazz thought enough of Prowl to put the needed effort in. It was a rare skill for a non-Praxian to master.

With a final physical tremor Prowl's tactical systems shut up, giving a brief moment of disorientation where Prowl didn't feel at all like himself before the charge cascaded through his systems at a peak that could never normally be achieved and all thought was gone but for the ecstasy tearing through him.

Jazz couldn't help but cry out as his mate's pleasure pushed him over the edge as well. The charge that had been building in his system triggered and tripped from all sides.

Physical pleasure against his frame from the energy washing over Prowl and on to him where they touched. Field pleasure from meshed fields that were together when they were close enough almost continually now. The deep and very rare sensation of the hardline connection and how his mate processed all the energy and the results.

And the deepest connection of all, the bond between their very sparks that hid nothing and held nothing back when opened so fully as it was now.

As the charge spent itself, Prowl sagged forward, his processors sluggish about rebooting.

Jazz had enough reason left to shift his weight back so that he was not putting extra strain on his mate, though he left his frame pressed against Prowl's, one hand traveling over a spread wing still. ~Amazing love.~

Prowl's reply was more sensation than words, a feeling of lazy pleasure than came when processors were only partially on line and in no real hurry to change it. His bonded hummed in agreement, basking in the comfortable warmth as they both came back to their senses.

There was a soft click as Jazz's spike covered released, drawing a burst of anticipation from Prowl as he leaned forward, offering his lubricant-dripping valve more prominently.

"No worries love. I'll get to that." Jazz whispered, still recovering as he stroked his mate's wings gently. He wanted that valve, very much so, but he was also determined to make it _good_.

Prowl whimpered at the delay, his ability to hold out sorely tested by his mate's playful and thorough mood.

"You know the longer I make you wait the better it will be." Jazz said, teasing his mate across the bond and with soft words. "Because you want it more, crave it more, and when you finally do get it..."

"Sometimes you can make me overload more than you do," Prowl's entire frame quivered. He wanted to be _taken_. He wanted to feel his mate inside him, the slide of a spike, the rush of hot transfluid against his valve nodes. Oh, he _wanted_.

"No objections to that tonight, I trust?" Jazz asked, hands sliding down his mate's frame to grasp Prowl's hips firmly. He rubbed the tip of spike against the hot valve before pressing in with agonizing slowness. "Want to savor this. Want to feel every bit of you."

Prowl's voice failed him at the exquisite pleasure of being spread open and filled with such care, unable to do anything about the speed. His valve calipers cycled and tightened, rubbing the valve lining against the invader.

Jazz moaned, his self control sorely tested by the tight grip of his mate's valve. "So good love, so very good." His hands gripped Prowl's hips a little tighter. The rush of lust, hot and so very personal, was the primary response, but woven into it was how much Prowl had anticipated this. How much his mate relished being _taken_, strong and deeply. To have his mate's last overload rush into him after he was too spent to get a charge from it.

"Soon love," Jazz promised, frame quivering at the tight squeeze of valve over spike as he continued to push in, the motion slow and smooth. "As much as you want, as long you can take it."

Prowl's moan rose into a keen of raw, trembling pleasure as Jazz finally seated himself fully, his spike housing rubbing against the soft platelets of Prowl's valve. ~Please...~ was all he could organize, his processors spinning at finally being fed the sensation it wanted for so long. Every pressure-sensitive sensor in his valve was firing pleasure across his neural net, overshadowing every other sense he had.

~Since you asked so nicely-~ Jazz murmured across the bond, kissing Prowl's neck as he drew slowly back before thrusting home again.

Prowl's keen rose even higher as his hands clutched at empty air. The bond sang with his pleasure, his desires, and the hardline fed the energy directly into Jazz's systems.

Jazz quivered, a growl escaping him as Prowl's desire washed through him and his hands tightened on Prowl's hips once more as he drove into his mate. ~You feel so good like this love. Going to take you, enjoy the way your valve feels holding me, how you will keen and cry when I push you over the edge again and again.~

Prowl's vents hitched as he felt his mate grasp and then sink more fully into Prowl's desires. He rocked back into each thrust as best he could, but between bindings and Jazz's hands ... and oh didn't _they_ feel good holding him so strongly! - there was little he could do but take what was done to him. Jazz was giving no quarter as he slipping into his mate's fantasy, fingers sinking into Prowl's hip joints as the he drove into his mate, each thrust deep and strong in the illusion of absolute control.

The rush Prowl got from it, the intensity of the pleasure and the quickly building charge, made the act that Jazz normally couldn't even contemplate come much easier. They'd both been abused, their frames used against their will. It made this idea, spoken, unpleasant. Yet here where it was layered with trust and the knowledge that this was an act, a way for Prowl to take back what had been taken from him, it was incredibly good.

As tight as the slick slide of spike in valve was, as good as it felt, it was nothing compared to the pleasure of knowing that this was empowering to the bound mech, even if Jazz didn't understand how and Prowl couldn't, really, explain it.

With a bellowing roar Prowl's valve clamped down on Jazz's spike, pouring part of his overload charge directly into the most sensitive node clusters for it.

"Not yet." Jazz growled, forcing his own overload back and continuing to thrust through his bonded's. He wanted this, wanted to feel his mate's pleasure. And if this was good to Prowl he would draw the entire thing out as long as he could. He could feel Prowl's charge wane, only to build again at the continued stimulation. Deep, need-filled moans escaped the Praxian as his systems tried to cope with the charge for a fourth overload. It would be all he could take, his frame already trembling in exhaustion.

~Give me your pleasure.~ Jazz demanded, fighting to hold back and give his love what he desired.

Prowl moaned in reply, his processors past any ability to form coherent glyphs, much less string them together into a sentence. He understood the spark-delivered command however, at least in intent. Shaking, exhausted, his frame was still responding eagerly. His voice rose in a trembling moan of pleasure-filled desire that nearly broke into a scream when Jazz lifted one hand from his hips to pulse a strong magnetic field into his wing.

It was the break Jazz needed as he felt his mate let go, lost in another overload. With a roar of his own he stopped holding back, hips grinding against his mate with rush of transfluid, reveling in his own release and contentment of his mate's spark.

SxSxSxSxSxSxSxSx S===================S SxSxSxSxSxSxSxS

Idarassi lounged on the berth he shared with his bondmate, awaiting Bluestreak's return. For the last joor or so the gray Praxian had been doing unspecified but clearly highly arousing things to his older brother, judging by what had been echoing through the bond. The half-serpent could practically sense the heat radiating from his mate's frame even though he couldn't actually see his mate yet, but aroused scents were already wafting down the hall. Adjusting his position, he leaned back against a loop of his own frame, optics on the door.

It slid open to Bluestreak's frame. A fraction of a klik pause to locate Idarassi and the gray Praxian lunged for him, his intentions bright and clear across the bond. He wanted to frag, and _now_.

A laugh answered the lunge as patterned coils caught Bluestreak out of the air, curling around him and drawing him closer, the tip already rubbing against the smaller mech's equipment covers. Reaching up to run palms and clawtips over sensitive sensor wings, Idarassi caught his mate's lips in a fiery kiss, his agile glossa thoroughly exploring the depths of his mate's mouth.

~Have fun teasing your brother?~ the serpent-mech purred through the bond.

~A great deal,~ Bluestreak moaned as his interface covers slid open and the bond sang with the joy of being within its mate's field. ~He gets _so_ hot when he's in the mood to be bound. I'm sure Jazz jumped him right away.~ He added a mental image of Prowl's field and appearance just before he'd left while he pawed lightly at Idarassi's interface cover. ~So responsive to words too.~

Idarassi purred at the image, the large scale covering his equipment splitting and shifting out of the way. Both equipment covers were open, ready for whatever Bluestreak had in mind. The tip of his tail teased along the smaller mech's valve platelets, catching the lubricant already seeping out. ~Very hot,~ he agreed. ~Though not as hot a sight as you wrapped up in my coils,~ he added a moment later, his mental voice a throaty purr.

Bluestreak shivered in anticipation, pleasure and how _good_ he felt all coiled up in his lover's long frame. He'd never imagined being with anything other than another Praxian in the long run, his first proposal to the snake-mech one of simple bored curiosity, but once he'd felt what it was like to be inside that coil, he knew he'd never willingly give it up, not even if he bonded to another for the good of the family line. Every step closer he had become more convinced of just how _right_ Idarassi was for him. Even so, he'd been joyfully shocked with Prowl had not only consented to the bond, but _approved_ of it

From that moment on, Bluestreak was waiting for the right time, and it was finally here.

~The war is over, the family home rebuilt, all we have to do now is fill it,~ Bluestreak trilled softly, seductively, his intentions shining in his mind and spark.

Green-flecked optics brightened. Ever since Idarassi had learned that Jazz's changed scent meant he was carrying the big mech had yearned for some of his own, keeping that desire buried while the war raged on. He had channeled it into the raw protectiveness that had kept the Decepticons from getting anywhere near Prowl and Jazz's sparklings despite their best efforts. Now, he loosened his stranglehold on that desire, letting it filter forward to merge with his mate's. A shiver ran through his frame, his chestplates unlocking. ~I like the sound of that, love.~

~Good,~ Bluestreak all but melted in delight and relief that it was a shared desire. He leaned in for another kiss and ran a hand over Idarassi's interface equipment while his own chestplates unlocked. ~Who should carry, this time?~

Idarassi's forked glossa looped itself around Bluestreak's, the tips fluttering ticklishly against smooth metal. Another burst of desire flared through his field at the unvoiced statement that both of them would eventually carry. ~Perhaps the first sparkling should be yours to carry?~ he suggested, tailtip sliding from Bluestreak's valve platelets to lazily circle the rim of his mate's spike housing.

The Praxian moaned deeply, welcoming the idea with all his spark for many reasons he could name, and those that ran deeper. ~Then I need your spike, not your tail,~ he shivered in anticipation and squirmed, seeking to reach that much-loved spike. ~They will be _ours_.~

The half-serpent chuckled again, his tail curling around Bluestreak's waist to drape over his hip and continue teasing the gray mech's spike housing. Idarassi's own spike pressurized out of its housing, rubbing against Bluestreak's plating as a sinuous ripple ran the length of the bigger mech's frame. Gentle claws teased along a seam of a spread wing, finding all the most sensitive spots.

~Love you,~ Bluestreak moaned as he stroke the spike before him, then shifted to settle onto it, taking the full length deep into his chassis. His spike slipped free, welcoming his mate's attentions. With a ripple of his valve calipers, Bluestreak spread his chest plates fully and brought his spark chamber forward. ~Create with me, love.~

Silver-gray chestplates parted, Idarassi's bluish-purple spark flaring brightly and pressing against the side of its crystal cage. His tailtip curled around Bluestreak's spike, stroking and squeezing along its length in time with his own thrusts into his mate's valve. ~Of course, my love.~

A deeper moan escaped Bluestreak as he leaned forward and opened his spark chamber, releasing the warm blue spark to seek its mate. Though his frame coursed with pleasure, he was quickly beyond that, focused on the pleasure and intense intimacy of spark-to-spark, and the desire he shared with his mate to create a new life. ~Love you, want you, trust you, want to carry your creation,~ Bluestreak repeated almost endlessly in the background, a mantra of the moment.

Blue-hued purple ribbons of energy reached back, wrapping around warm blue and drawing their sparks together. Idarassi nipped lightly at his mate's jawline and lower lip, running his hands along the length of spread wings. Energy cracked between them as their sparks merged completely, the bigger mech's smooth thrusts into Bluestreak's valve speeding up. ~Love you, want you, would do anything for you,~ the half-serpent murmured in response.

Bluestreak could only moan in reply with a strong sense of love, acceptance and joy as he willingly lost himself in the merge, their mutual pleasure and desire to create.

Yellow optics flared brightly, staring unseeing at the ceiling as Idarassi gave himself over to the merge. His secondary processor kept his frame moving while the primary was swamped by the energy flowing back and forth, arcing through and over their merged sparks. Absolute love swirled through their bond, wrapping itself around Bluestreak's thoughts. That love was returned, washing back and forth between them. Energy built and built, finally crashing over both of them in a tidal wave of ecstasy.


End file.
